Carry On Wayward Son
by OoljeeAingeal
Summary: What happened to make the Winchester men the way they are... Family, violence and women. And of course rock and roll. Suck at summaries, please read. Enjoy!
1. Carry On Wayward Son

Disclaimer: The Winchesters and Supernatural do not belong to me. They belong to the WB and CW. If however they would like to loan me John, I'm game. Also, will use several song lyrics, none of them belong to me either.

Please be advised this is my first attempt at fan fiction, all reviews welcome.

Lyrics to Carry On Wayward Son

Carry on my wayward son. For there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Now don't you cry no more.

Once I rose above the noise and confusion. Just to get a glimpse beyond the illusion. I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high. Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man. Though my mind could think I still was a mad man. I hear the voices when I'm dreamin', I can hear them say

Carry on my wayward son. For there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Now don't you cry no more.

Masquerading as a man with a reason. My charade is the event of the season. And if I claim to be a wise man, it surely means that I don't know. On a stormy sea of moving emotion, tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean I set a course for winds of fortune, but I hear the voices say. 

Carry on, you will always remember. Carry on, nothing equals the splendor. Now your life's no longer empty. Surely heaven waits for you.

Carry on my wayward son. For there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Now don't you cry no more.

January 24, 1979Lawrence, Kansas

"Holy Hell, Mary. Look at him, just look at him," uttered an emotionally spent John Winchester. A man who up until this point never wanted to be a father. He remembered well the day his beautiful Mary had told him they were expecting. The young husband dropped the coffee cup in his hand and walked out. John left his wife whom he loved more than anything for a week. She told him later she cried herself to sleep every night he was gone. How was she to sleep without him? A child, what was he going to do with a child? John was so afraid he was going to turn out like his bastard father. Good start, walking out on the love of your life when she tells you; you are going to have a baby.

May 1972Centropolis, Kansas

John enlisted in the United States Marine Corps at 16, just out of high school. He faked the paperwork to say he was 17. They didn't look too close. It was a time of war, well conflict. John had wanted to enlist. He didn't need to be drafted. His mother Rose drove him into Topeka to meet with a recruiter, she signed the release form with a shaking hand not too many hours later.

Jonathon Dean Winchester shipped out to basic training before his father was back from whatever road trip Contel Telephone had sent him on this time. "Johnny, you come home to me." Rose Catherine Winchester said tears shining in her old eyes. Rose grabbed her son's hand "and you come home to Mary. Promise me." "I promise mom. I promise." Jonathon Dean Winchester had not broken that promise.

Mary Sophia Molson was John's best friend. Since diapers, truth be told, probably longer than that. Their mothers had meet in high school becoming fast friends. They had both married the week school let out. Mary's mother, Nina had been lucky in her choice of husbands. Christopher Samuel Molson was a great man. One John loved dearly. His mother Rose had not been so fortunate. Jasper Jonathon Winchester was a hard man, ruled by an iron fist. Beat both his wife and son, unmercifully.

Many a night Mr. Molson had provided him shelter and comfort. Mary would clean and patch him up. His back was riddled with scars, so was his face if you looked closely. John didn't even want to think about his bum, he was sure it had matching white lines as well. Mr. Molson would see to it John was out of the house as much as possible. Christopher Molson had been a prince among men. It had been Mr. Molson who taught John humility and compassion. "You have to look past the pain and find the soul," said the weathered old man, many a time. It was only years after he had passed John realized that Mr. Molson had been talking about John.

September, 1973Marine Corps Base Hill 55, Vietnam

When Christopher's time was coming he talked with surrogate son. Well, telegrammed and spoken with the Red Cross. The jungles of Vietnam didn't exactly have phones and cell phones hadn't been patented yet. Private First Class John Winchester shipped out to Vietnam 10 days after finishing his Explosive Ordinance Disposal and Jungle Mountain Warfare Training at Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton. It was the Winter of 1972; the Corps originally wanted him grunting through the backwaters.

That was until they learned of his knowledge of explosives. It seems the United States Marine Corps had a special place for people with John's particular talent. 1st Combat Engineering Battalion with the 1st Marine Corps Division the oldest most decorated Division of the Corps, based at Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton. John always loved being a farm boy from Kansas, but there was something to be said about looking over a hill and seeing nothing but miles of blue ocean in front of you. Instead of humping through tangled trees and burned out villages, John was setting explosives and disarming mines.

John's Commanding Officer pulled him aside and handed him the yellow paper, sad understanding smile in his eyes. With shaking hands John remembered opening the telegram. At first he hadn't read it, just looked to see who sent it. Sender: Christopher Molson stared at him. Swallowing convulsively, he read the Western Union. Angels in heaven please don't let it be Mary.

As it turns out it wasn't Mary, but Mr. Molson. He had a rare form of cancer, in the abdomen. Doctors gave him, a month at best. John. Am dying. Stomach Cancer. Need you home. Marry Mary. Love You. Christopher. John ran a hand over his high and tight. His unit had been at the base, as luck would have it.

"Permission to phone the states, sir?" An emotional eighteen year old Sergeant asked his Commanding Officer. In peacetime John would have just reached the rank of Lance Corporal. However, this wasn't peacetime. In times of war, those who live and keep their fellow Devil Dogs alive get promoted. The newly chevroned Sergeant Winchester was trying to maintain his level head. The Commanding Officer had known what was in the yellow folded paper and was kind. "Permission Granted Sergeant, Peace be with you son." The ringing had gone on forever. Three rings, he remembered those being the longest three rings of his life.

"Hello," uttered an exhausted sounding Christopher Molson. "Mr. Molson its John." The young man who sat in a small hot country so far away croaked. "Son, you received my message?" Asked the dying old man sitting on the linoleum kitchen floor at home in Centropolis, Kansas. "John you need to take leave. Please, son I am dying. Have to know both you and Mary are taken care of. Please come home." John could hear the exhausted determination in Mr. Molson's voice. "Want to leave you and Mary the farm. Have people lined up to buy it. Once you marry my girl, you two will be taken care of." John knew his face was red and his eyes were puffy. "Mr. Molson, when did you find out?" His surrogate father replied, "last week."

"Marry Mary?" John asked. The two men who had shared so much laughed. It did sounds kind of funny. "Sir, I am only 18 and Mary is still 17." John said not that he wouldn't marry her. Mary was the love of his life. There would never be another woman for him. "Already talked with Johnson Ames down at the courthouse in Lawrence, if I sign the release form, it can be done." "Does she know?" John asked, already thinking about how to get her ring from its hiding place, a set of wedding bands and for that matter how to get home.

"My girl knows I am dying. She doesn't know I am talking with you. Mary loves you sure as the sun rises and sets son. She would marry you today, next Tuesday or 10 years from now. Whenever you got round to asking." Mr. Molson informed a young man whom he only thought of as his son. Never a day went by when he didn't think of John. Christopher always liked to think it was because of his love and settling hand that John learned to calm some of the rage and pain inside. "Yes sir I know." John agreed. "Will talk with my superiors to see how I can click my heels and return to Kansas." "Thank you son. I love you." "I love you to sir, I love you too."

5 days later John Dean Winchester returned home to Centropolis, Kansas. His heart heavy, he was coming to marry a woman he loved and bury the only man he thought of as a father. Somehow, thank the Angels Jasper Winchester was out of town. His mother told him his fucking father had been out hunting, which meant drinking with the boys. By the time John arrived in Centropolis his mother had helped Mary hem her mothers wedding gown. Mr. Molson had purchased them wedding bands as a gift. John only had to figure out how to get to his hiding place and retrieve the ring. There had never been a question in his mind that Mary was the one.

John found the ring in the Carter Family Antique Shop last year. He had been running an errand for his mother. Lorna Carter ran the Antique shop after her father passed and came up with the brilliant idea of Ten Cent Tuesday. Anything in the bins in back were ten cents, Rose Winchester made many a magnificent quilt and loved the scraps in the dime bins.

While John had been waiting in line behind a bunch a of cackling old hens his spotted this ring. Ms. Carter let him pay it off, bit by bit at a time, never saying a word. John payed off the last of it just before he left to become a Hollywood Marine, Marines who went through boot camp at Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego were known as Hollywood Marines because the base was located in Southern California.

Mary Sophia Molson became Mary Sophia Winchester early in the morning on September 21, 1973. The Douglas County Courthouse in Lawrence Kansas with its clock tower and church like spires was the location of their vows. Mr. Molson's friend Judge Ames married the young couple at 8:00am. Mrs. Winchester stood up for Mary. Mr. Molson stood up for John. The four were back on the road home at 9:00am. They buried Mr. Molson four days later.

John returned to the war a little less than a month later. His wedding band shining on his hand like a beacon, a homing beacon. Since the day Mary placed it on his hand it had not left. One day God willing this conflict would end and John could spend the rest of his days with his best friend. Until then John had to be content with the millions of letters they wrote back and fourth.

Mary stayed at her father's farm until John's next furlough. When he returned to Kansas on leave the couple sold the Molson Farm to Christopher's good friend Jacob Tunney. After the sale was complete they returned to Lawrence, buying what would be their home until the fire took Mary. Lawrence was still close enough that John could drive down to Centropolis to see his mother. Far enough away his father did not want to make the trip.

May 12, 1978Lawrence, Kansas

The morning of May 12, 1978 Mary came to him tears in her eyes. "Johnny." Mary only used Johnny on special occasions. Judging by the tears this was not one of those lets use the kitchen counter for fun times. "Sweetheart, what is wrong?" His wife's response was to clasp her small arms around his waist and hug him till he thought their bodies had become one in the same. Then out of nowhere Mary reached up and kissed him. It reminded him of the kiss at the Greyhound Station before he shipped out.

The night before they had done more than kissing. He laughed when she told him she wanted to give him a kiss to remember. "Sweetheart you gave me a whole lot more to remember last night, the feel of your…" That had been when she had silenced him with the kiss that he had remembered. This one could rival that one. Something was defiantly wrong.

"Marzipan?" She ignored him. John's pet name for Mary was marzipan, because she was his sweet Mary. At the current time she was his stressed out Mary, still using their special name was worth a shot. "John I am going out. Will you be home early today?" John studied his wife. "I'll be home by 5pm sweetheart. Will that work or do you need me home earlier?" Watching her for a sign or clue. "Okay 5pm." John watched his best friend and lover walk out of the house. What had made his beautiful Mary so upset? To be on the safe side, John arrived home at 4pm. Cooked dinner and set the table nice, flowers and candles.

Mary walked in the house quiet as quiet could be. John saw her face was red and blotchy. Had she been crying all day? "Mary, sweetheart, you have to tell me what is wrong so I can fix it." Watery hazel eyes looked at him. Was that fear? Never in their lives had Mary ever been afraid of him. Dear sweet angels what had happened. John didn't have to wait to find out. "John, I am pregnant." He remembered looking at her, Mary his helpmate, true love and best friend. He remembered the sound of the coffee mug shattering against the new floor he had installed the week before, though not that actual falling of the newly filled mug.

Then he just walked out. No response, no call, no nothing. John stayed by the back door and listened to her cry her heart out. Then he just turned and walked away. It was a full week. Seven days before he returned. John's mother Rose tracked him down, switch in hand. His mother, who had never raised a hand to him, threatened to beat him worse than his father ever did. "Jonathon Dean Winchester, you have never in your life run from anything. Not even when I begged you. Yet you have run from your best friend and wife. You get your ass home before I draw blood." Angels in heaven what had he done…

January 24, 1979Lawrence, Kansas

"John? John! Bellowed an exhausted Mary Winchester. Oh shit he was on a one-way trip to memory lane and hells bells. "Sweetheart, I am sorry." She raised an all-knowing eyebrow. "A son, we have a son. What do we call him?" Mary watched the emotions skirt across her husbands face. When they stopped on wonder and peace she knew all would okay. "What do you think of Dean?" The young father turned to his wife, tears shinning bright in his eyes. "Oh Mary. Dean Christopher Winchester." The couple shared a look, both thought of her father. The new mother smiled indulgently at her husband. "Do you think we can get to a hospital now?"

John looked at his family and smiled, "Of course sweetheart." He started the truck and pulled back onto the road that would lead them to Lawrence Memorial Hospital. Mary looked at her son then her husband. John recognized the twinkle in his wife's eye. "John do you realize the song that was playing when Dean came to join us?" John cast a blank look at his wife. He remembered she was screaming in pain, a baby was dropping into his arms, there had been music playing?

"Carry on Wayward Son." Mary said with a smile, a kind of smile that lead to them having Dean in the first place. John laughed, "Our son's a romantic." Carry on Wayward Son had been playing the night they conceived little Dean. Both parents remembered that night. The old barn, the spring storm raging and good old Kansas playing in the background.

Turns out Dean Christopher Winchester never did things the easy way. Ever.


	2. Soul Brother

These characters aren't mine. I don't own them. Although would be willing to go into debt for Jeffrey Dean Morgan. I am guessing by the lack of reviews that the first chapter was not good reading. Do hope this chapter is more to every ones liking. Cheers.

January 24, 2005Mill Valley, California

"What the fuck you talking about boy?" The words slammed into Dean Winchester, like a punch from a prizefighter. Why didn't his dad just throw the punch? It would be easier and hurt a lot less. Contrary to what his kid brother Sam thought, he did feel things. Deeply. He just didn't let it show. John Winchester taught his boys never to show weakness. Weakness will get you killed.

"Sir, if you would just let me get it out." The young hunter's voice was firm and uncompromising. John Winchester ran his calloused hands through his hair and sighed. "I'm sorry son. Please continue." Sorry, it didn't even begin to explain the depth of his feelings. Dean, stubborn pain in the ass he was, just looked at him stone-eyed. Hazel eyes, his mothers eyes. Mary's eyes were capable of the same stone-eyed look. Oh hell, he was so fucked up. He was a psycho babblists wet dream.

"I went to the library sir…" John laughed at that. Sam his youngest and surliest would have never believed the words coming out of his older brother's mouth. Samuel John Winchester was long considered the brain of the family. If Sam only knew, Dean actually did most of the research for the two of them. Not that is was as fast as Sam had done it. "Sir," his son questioned. Oh man, he knew he really fucked up if Dean was persisting on using sir. "Go on Dean, I'm listening. " His kid gave him a look that said he thought otherwise, continuing on nonetheless.

"I went to the library and did some research on the town, seems the Murphy's have been here since 1714. They immigrated from Lietrum, Ireland. The Murphy's who own the welding business, Murphy's Fire and Iron." John thought normally this would be the part where his son would make some smart, usually funny comment on the name Fire and Iron. Today apparently was not 'normally.' "The welding business responsible for making the bridge, the bridge that picks the travelers it wants to let pass." Finally stopping for a breath, Dean looked at his father. John could see it in his son's eyes. 'What did I do?'

"Dean, you stayed at the library till closing last night and were up," the former Marine looked at his watch, "at 4:45am to continue your research?" "Sir, if you." "Damn it Dean, you can call me Dad." 'He probably thinks I don't remember. Oh Dean, I remember your mother passed out on me and the blood there was so much blood.' John watched his son look past him into the horizon. 'Oh Dean, I could never forget your birthday and I do love you.' John knew his mind was wandering.

"Yes sir. As I was saying the bridge plays it own version of spin the bottle, only its spin the car. All the victims have been men in there 40's. Young fathers who have been of question ethics, if the gossip in this hell whole of a town is correct. As the Murphy story goes, Marcum Murphy was stepping out on his wife with the courtesans." Dean used the phrase courtesans instead of a more vulgar euphemism. John was almost amused. "He was supposed to pick up his daughter Agnes from church and was late. Agnes started walking home on her own. The little girl was half way across the bridge when a run away carriage hit her."

John closed his hands behind his neck and stretched. 4:58am, there were times Deans ability not to sleep surprised him. He would have made a hell of a good Marine. Dean might have joked about his no respect for authority, but John knew it was no respect for him. He always told his boys you want respect, you have to earn it. Maybe he hadn't. More than like though, he had their respect and then lost it. His eldest was braver than any Marine he ever humped with.

Attempting a little levity John said, "I guess we know who put the overalls in Mrs. Murphy's chowder." Dean continued his mother's stone eyed look. Crashed and burned Johnny Boy. "Seems little Agnes is mad at Daddy. Dads aren't perfect, we are just men. Who can and do make mistakes, it doesn't mean we don't love our children," commented the older man with a sad smile. Dean wisely kept his thoughts on this subject to himself. "Also seems, it's a simple dig, salt and burn." "Completely agree sir." Sir. 'Retreat Hell.' John thought.

Sighing and rubbing his hands together, John turned and walked to his trusty old Chevy truck. "Are you coming son?" Dean silently followed his father. There where times in John's life as if he felt he where leading the lamb to the slaughter. The ride to the cemetery was quieter than the bone yard. "Oh hell John thought." And this was the son that stayed with him. Aside from being the bravest man he knew. His eldest son was the most loyal too. The road weary father thought of times he had exploited that. Despite what his younger son thought, he did love Dean. He loved them both.

When they arrived at the grave of the naughty little Agnes, Dean stripped off his black jacket and began digging. John would have offered to help, but figured this way his son might work off a little of his pent up anger. Twenty minutes and a few rays of sunshine later he heard the shovels mighty blow to the box housing the little girl's skeleton. "Shows all yours sir," Dean said as his dad gave him a hand out of the grave. At least he took my hand, the haggard man thought. That's a step in the right direction.

John salted and burned. Thinking about his current situation as he completed the task, a task he had completed thousands of times. Two brilliant boys and one very departed wife. He followed the path he thought was best. What if it wasn't? Sam had exiled himself here to California and Dean stayed with him out of some form a masochistic penance. The day Dean broke was going to be the day John died. He was damn hell sure of it. Dean was his lifeline, his center. He also knew he should tell him something to this effect…

The kid was a little too much like his father in this respect, no "chick flick" moments. 'Another thing I screwed up,' John thought. Dean had Mary's heart that's for damn sure. He remembered all the important days, sat with you when you were sick. Moped the sweat off your brow and puke off your face. Dean would take care of you when you were injured, clean and stitch open wounds, never minding the bloods, guts and gore. Hell, the pain in the ass would even hold you when the damn floodgates broke. There were times when the tears couldn't be kept at bay. Dean would just put his strong arms around you and let you sob into him, slowly rubbing your back till you calmed down.

Talk though; well talking that wasn't high on his list. It wasn't that Dean wouldn't if the situation absolutely called for the dreaded verbalization of feelings. Especially if it were for his younger brother Sam, for Sam Dean would do anything. Including tell him he loved him when Sam needed to hear the words. He just wanted to emulate his father. If you were silent and stoic, then no one could use your words against you. That was Dean when it came to the touchy feely. If he only knew how John raged at the Angels when he was alone. Still there was no doubt in John's mind Dean had Mary's heart and kind soul.

The ride back to the Bed and Breakfast was almost as silent as the ride from it. Silent Dean always sent chills down John's spine. His eldest son was never without something to say. Silence meant John had hurt his son, greatly. Oh Dean my son my little hunter. Kid might be over a quarter century old, but he would always be John's little hunter.

"Hungry, Dean?" "No sir, I had an apple." The Winchester trackers of all things evil arrived back at the quaint Old Brick Lodge. The Old Brick earned its moniker from the fact it was built of the bricks that housed the first town hall. Normally the duo would have stayed in a cheap roadside motel, this hell whole of a town as Dean put it, didn't have one. As they were taking care of their things Dean's phone rang.

John glanced at his watch 8:13am. Sam called right on time. Dean flipped open the phone and put in on speaker. A cacophony of classic rock songs played, excerpts at least. Sam always made sure to have songs that would make Dean laugh and let him know he was loved. **AC/DC's Highway to Hell**, I'm on the Highway to Hell, No stop signs, no speed limit, nobody's gonna slow me down. Like a wheel gonna spin it nobody's gonna mess me round. **Queen, Soul Brother**, My brother won't let you down, he won't , he won't, he won't let you down, he can do anything anything anything he is my soul brother. **Lynyrd Skynyrd Whiskey Rock a Roller**, I was born a travellin man and my feets do bun the ground I don't care for fancy music if your shoes can't shuffle around, I got a hundred woman and there's no place I call home, The only time I'm satisfied is when I'm on the road. **Earth, Wind and Fire, Blood Brothers**, From the time we were old enough to stand, it was you and I together till the end, oh what our souls believe we will always be blood brothers time can't divide. **Bad Company, Bad Company**, Rebel souls deserters we are called chose a gun and threw away the sun now these towns they all know are name 6 gun sound is our claim to fame, I can hear them say, Bad Company and of course, **Kansas, Carry on Wayward Son**, Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done, lay you weary head to rest, don't you cry no more. Sam had heard the story dozens of times. Guess there was no leaving Kansas for the Winchesters. Taking it off speaker, Dean laughed "Nice selection this year Geek Boy." His son smiled, actually smiled.

"Angels above, I am the worst fucking father on this earth." When Dean turned and looked at him, John thought he must have uttered this observation out loud. Then Dean gave him the going outside look. Great more Dad bashing. At least on Sam's side. He was never going to earn the coveted Dad of the Year award.

"Dean, how does it feel to be another year older? Any gray hairs yet? Or is it time for Rogaine?" Sam asked, not trying to hide that fact he was rubbing in the fact Dean was older. "Shut up Bitch." Sam ignored the rebuke. "Where are you guys? How long will you be there? I made you a totally kick box this year…" rambled the younger of the two in one breath.

"Sammy, Sammy, its cool dude, just the fact someone remembered," Dean relayed with out ire in his voice, just simple resignation. "He hasn't wished you a happy fucking birthday? He was there for the event." Sam stated anger evident at the slight their father had committed. Committed and not for the first time.

"Yeah, fucking had a lot to do with it," laughed the older brother. Before he could say any more his father pulled the phone out of Dean's hand, put it up to his ear, "Sam your brother will have to call you back." The burley father snapped the phone shut and handed it back to his oldest. "Just so you know son, fucking did have a lot to do with. I love your mother so fucking much. We had you and your brother."

John Winchester could see his son wanted to say something, probably something that would make John want to send him flying into the field behind them. "Now, when you call your brother back, tell him your fucking father, said we will see you in a couple of hours." With that the ageing hunter turned around and walked back into the Old Brick Lodge.

He didn't want to see the emotion in his oldest son's face. It would break him. Break him like that old porcelain doll Mary had kept in the nursery. They might have had son's not daughters, but even John like the smiling face of the porcelain angel. What father wouldn't want an angel to watch over his boys? The doll had broken before Sam was born. Mary glued it back together, she told him, "Not all Angels have perfect halos." John had no idea Dean had the pretty guardian sitting in his trunk.

Dean Christopher Winchester was for the first time in his life speechless, really and truly speechless. Dean whose mouth had gotten him in trouble or more than one occasion was at an utter loss for words. Being a smart mouth was part of his defense mechanism. His father just paid him a kindness. Oh it was not the first time, just the first in a very long time. Flipping open his phone he called, he was sure very anxious younger brother. "What the hell just happened Dean, are you okay? Did he hurt you?" uttered a nerve racked, though still ready to defend his brother, sounding Sam.

"You are not in a million years going to guess what just happened," was the still flabbergasted Deans reply. "Our Dad just gave me a real birthday present." Sam was shocked he looked at the phone with a wtf expression, not that Dean could see it. "Sammy quit staring at the phone I haven't even told you what the man did." Sam, flipped his hair out of his eyes, of course Dean knew his reaction. "What'd he give you? A new knife or something?" asked Sam. Still impressed his Dad actually did something, anything.

"I'll see you in two hours little brother." With that Dean hung up. He looked at his phone knowing his brother was probably sitting on that ugly green chair doing the same thing. Did his brother just say he was going to see him in two hours? " See him." Sam repeated this to an empty room. Crap he had things to do.

His brother was going to have a good birthday or the best one Sam could come up with in a short space of time. This separation had been hard on them. Sam never realized how much a part of his life Dean was until he was alone. When you are alone the demons come. There is no big brother ready to take on the world to protect you.

Dean took a calming breath and walked back into the room he had been sharing with his father. "Dad?" He looked around and didn't see his John. "Dad?" John walked out of the bathroom and looked at him, emotion visible in his eyes. In an uncharacteristic move for both of them, Dean hugged his Dad, like he would have when he was real little. He could hear his sons muffled thank you. John squeezed his son hard and kissed the top of his head.

"Dean I know I would never win any father of the year awards, but I do love you. More than you will ever know or realize. You have to understand that." John's voice was a little unsteady, his eyes imploring Dean to understand. The young man looked at his father, both with raw emotions on their faces. "I know Dad. Honestly, I do. I love you too. And if you ever tell Sammy about this, I might have to stuff and mount you to the wall like the duck out there in the entrance hall."

John laughed leave it to his son to get them out of this with their male dignity intact. With that the older Winchester went to settle the bill, while the younger one finished packing. Twenty minutes and two steaming hot beverage cups later, the Winchester boys were crossing over the Golden Gate Bridge and in search of the 280 south. While driving on the Northern California freeway John headed down memory lane. When you are alone the demons come.


	3. Guess Things Happen That Way

The Winchester Boys don't belong to me. A dang shame if you ask me. Anyhow, am not gluttonous or anything, will gladly share Sam and Dean as long as I get to keep John. Please read and review. Lonely new writer is feeling slightly dejected at the lack of feedback.

January 24, 2005280 South, CaliforniaJohn Winchesters Truck

John slipped in his favorite tape. One his sons knew nothing about. **Johnny Cash, Guess Things Happen That Way**, the song filled his truck. God gave me that girl to lean on, then he put me on my own. Heaven help me be a man and have the strength to stand alone. I don't like it but I guess things happen that way.

He thought back to Sammy's fourth birthday. Dean made him a cake Reece's littered through it and one of those big number candles. Laughing John recalled the apron. It was one of his USMC shirts, 'We never promised you a rose garden.' Who knew how apropos it would become. Angels above don't ever tell Dean, but that kid was quite the domestic, even at the tender age of eight. The little shit even put frosting on it chocolate frosting.

Made Sam a card and gave him a gift, a photo album. Sam had been asking Dean why they never had pictures wherever they stayed. Dean showed Sam how to prop it up so he could look at photos anytime he wanted. With a photo album he reasoned to Sam he was always able to carry them with him, change the display picture as news one were taken, while still being able to hold on to the old ones. Memories were important things.

John remembered Dean looking at him his little shoulders square. His chin the strong Winchester chin set, hazel eyes bright with love for his brother. "He needs to know he is loved sir. When you put him in my arms you put him in my care." At eight Dean was ready to take on the world for his brother. The older man looked out the window. Tears making a silent trip down his cheeks. Sam had Dean. Who did Dean have?

Unfortunately he remembered Deans next birthday all to well. John wasn't one to rule by an iron fist. The boys were so afraid he would leave like Mary that for the most part fear of abandonment worked. However, there were those times…about a week before Dean's ninth birthday they had been on a hunt. A friend of his from the Corps, retired Captain Frank Pierce had called him.

After the Vietnam conflict had ended John's unit returned to Camp Pendleton. Not good at sitting idle, John had volunteered for Force Recon. He went through the Basic Recon Course, Landing Force Training, Jump School and Under Water Demolition Training. Mary called him her Renaissance Man. Even with all the specialized training provided John was still the explosives guy. He joined Force Recon, 1st Marine Corps Division, Alpha Company, helmet number A056.

Part of the job of a special forces Marine was to not be noticed. You go behind enemy lines undetected, take care of the business at hand, be it extracting someone or destroying a particular position. Frank Pierce was talented young Staff Judge Advocate; he had a knack for seeing the right papers pushed in the right places. He was loved by enlisted and officer alike.

Captain Piece had been processing a certain set of important papers in a slightly unorthodox fashion. In a location John was sent to neutralize. One of the reasons he was so well like was because he had the uncanny ability to get the job done making both sides of whatever issue he was working on happy up to and including the insurgents or enemy. Captain Pierce was nicknamed the Peacekeeper.

In this case he found himself trapped where he shouldn't have been. John saved his life maybe not in a way the Corps would have approved of. The important thing was the Peacekeeper was safe. In times imminent demise, you don't question you do. Frank had scene to it that John had high marks on his next evaluation. Captain Piece authored a wonderful letter of commendation and recommended that John receive a meritorious promotion. Staff Sergeant John Winchester was then promoted to Gunnery Sergeant John Winchester.

Frank and his wife Shelly had just purchased a lot in Chadron, Nebraska. Frank was clearing the barn and things started flying. The former Devil Dog knew his old friend John was into the paranormal and asked him to come and ghost bust. Frank had offered a good sum of money and a comfortable place to stay for an easy job. Right, easy.

January 19, 1988Chadron, Nebraska

Dean knew the rules. Stay in the truck with Sammy. Dad will be out soon. There were times when both the boys had come into haunted places and watched scary things happen. This was their life. John could and would not shelter them. However, when he knew things had the potential to get dangerous, he went out of his way to make sure they were removed from the situation. This poltergeist fancied him self a javelin thrower and tossed pitchforks, rakes and anything else he could get his transparent hands on.

January 24, 2005 280 South, California

Hells bells, John thought as rubbed a hand over his weary face. Was there always this much traffic on the freeway in the morning? How many colors were there for automobiles these days and for that matter how many makes and models could the car companies come up with? Congestion and over population, two of the big reasons John preferred a small town to a big city. Wide open spaces. John needed wide open spaces. Another thing he had passed onto Dean. Kid loved the open road. Dean was never as so happy as be out on the road. Whenever John would glance in his rearview mirror he would see his son smiling. Angels help them if something ever happened to the Impala.

January 19, 1988Chadron, Nebraska

Grover Thompson, the spirit in question loved his property more than anything, he would walk it every day, finishing out his morning constitutional with a cup o joe in the barn. When he died his family buried him in his business office in the back of the mustard yellow barn. Whoever heard of a mustard yellow barn? Barns were supposed to be red. John had just reached the cottonwood casket when Grover the Champion Thrower speared him in the leg with a rake handle. His scream ran through the air. All the way to Dean, who heard his Dad cry out in white hot pain as the metal went through his skin, muscle and who knows what else.

When his oldest son walked in with a shotgun, his heart stopped. John was sure of it. A hay pick breezed right passed Dean's head and thankfully left it untouched. Dean didn't flinch just shot the apparition as best he could with his little eight year old frame. John turned salted and a light a match as fast as his trembling hands could. Little Dean ran straight to him, tears threatening to shine. "Dad!" His small voice screamed. Dean launched himself into his Dad's arms. John just held him, shaking the whole time. His son could have killed. "Dad, you are bleeding." John looked at his leg, damn it all to hell, he was.

"Dean Christopher Winchester," was all he could say before he grabbed his son's small arm and turned him around. He hit his backside so hard if John hadn't been holding him, Dean would have launched into the support beam for the barn. To his son's credit he didn't cry out, just gasped and froze in place. "What are the rules Dean?" Not turning around Dean's unsteady voice said, "Never walk onto a job, if I haven't told you, you can. When I say no, it means no." John sighed, turned his son to face him, tears were streaming down Dean's cheeks. John's eyes grew wet.

"Help me out son." John exhaustedly said to his rogue shotgun wielder. "Yes sir," was Dean's solemn response. The Winchester hunters made it back to the truck. Dean stored the gear they had just used in the weapons box. John attempted with out much success to apply a makeshift turn a kit to his leg. When they alighted into the cab Sammy's eyes were round as saucers. Oh, shit he saw everything.

Dean climbed over Sam and gingerly sat down next to him, pressing his small hands on the wound to try and stop the bleeding. Sam reached over and touched his brother's back. Dean looked at him, and thus the silent brother communication was borne. Present day John sighed he had witnessed this unique form of communication in action many a time and would again. Oh this he was certain, despite his harsh words to Sam. If John was lucky he might even witness this phenomenon before the day was out.

John tried to keep from hitting too many bumps on the road back to their cabin. He kept telling himself, he didn't want to jar his leg, but he knew it was for both him and Dean. John promised he would never spank the boys when he was angry he never wanted to turn into his father. John and Mary had talked punishments and knew they would occur. If their son's were anything like their father they would be headstrong. So yes they knew that a time would come when corporal punishment would happen, but the boys would always know they were loved. There was a difference between a beating and a punishment.

Turning into the parking area for the cabin John accidentally hit a hole. Dean had a sharp intake of breath, but said nothing. Sammy's green-brown eyes glared at him, fire raging. John could read the message in them 'you hurt my brother.' 'Yeah Sammy, dad's aren't perfect.' John didn't think this was the time for trying to reason with an upset and attempting to be overprotective four year old.

Sam kept rubbing Deans back the whole trip. A maneuver Dean had used many a time on Sam, if he had a nightmare or wasn't feeling well. Rubbing Sam's back always made Sam's spirit pick up. He would usually reach over hug Dean and tell him he was the bestest brother in the world. Dean however said not a word. Present day John always worried more when Dean was silent than when he had a smartass comment. Dean with nothing to say was beyond eerie and usually meant his oldest son was in pain deep emotional pain. And if John were to be honest, pain he was usually the cause of. Be it directly or indirectly.

Turning off the engine, John turned to his son's. Before he had a chance to say anything to the boys, Dean told Sam to hop down. Dean toke Sam's hand and walked into the cabin. When John looked through the window he could see Dean talking quietly to Sam. His littlest one pointing to the truck, Dean slowly taking Sam's hand in his and back to the conversation. Did he want to know?

By the time the embattled hunter made it in the cabin, his emotions were in check and his heart rate was returning to normal. Dean had helped Sammy get ready for bed and tucked in. The bathroom had supplies laid out, needle, thread, holy water and a change of clothes. This was not the first time his oldest son had assisted in patching wounds up; John doubted it would be the last.

John's bed had his old brown leather belt on it. Oh Dean he thought. May poor little man; old before his time was a phrase that came to mind. He might have spanked him, but he had never used a belt. Then he remembered their talk. "You make a big boy mistake. You get a big boy punishment."

John explained to Dean there was one thing that would result in his son's feeling leather connect with his bare backside. If John was on a job where the boys were restricted from and he found them there. It was to deter them from following him watching something and not understanding it or more importantly getting hurt. Never did he dream this would be the case. Dean hearing his father scream thinking the worst and coming to save him. Where did it all go wrong?

John walked, well hobbled into the bathroom; Dean followed him, his quiet little solider. Dean cut the jeans off; there was no saving this pair. No amount of peroxide and Tide would bring these back. They were a comfortable pair too, worn in and soft. He watched as son wiped the area around the impaled leg with alcohol. When that task was complete he looked at his dad. John nodded and Dean cleaned the wound with bedadine. Pain shot through him, the injured hunter welcomed it.

Dean looked at him, holy water in hand, wordlessly asking permission. "I might make noise son, but pour until the wound is white." With his fathers okay Dean poured the holy water. "Holy hell and all the Angels above," John uttered. He saw stars, lights and fancy shapes. His son's voice brought him back. "It is white sir." The older man looked down at his progeny's face. Dean was worried about his father and trying to hide it. John knew his son was also worried that John wouldn't love him anyone.

"Did you thread the needle?" "Yes sir." "Put the antibiotic inside the gash and then press the skin together." Wordlessly his son completed the task. When the injured party was finished with darning his wound shut he looked at Dean. His son's face was set. He had broken the rules. Dean was ready to face what ever lay ahead. John rubbed his tired hands over his face. "Okay son, take my pants and through them in the fire." "Yes sir."

Dean didn't move. He was waiting for further instruction. John sighed. "Then wait for me in my room." He observed his son stiff Winchester chin and all walk to the fireplace and put the pants in. Dean waited until they had turned to ash before moving. The weary father watched his son bravely make the long walk down the hall to John's room.

For the first time since the night's events, the former Gunny looked in the mirror. Blood and dirt was all over him. Oh hell there was a nick on his neck. More scars to add to his riddled body. He turned and put the shower on. "Fuck, Dean." Oh hell his courageous little man. As much as it killed him to make his son wait in agony for his impending punishment there was no way he was going to do anything to him like this. Divesting himself of what little clothes were left on his battered body, he climbed in the shower.

Tears followed down his cheeks mixing in with the frigid water from the shower. John refused himself hot water, preferring the bitter torture of cold. Oh Mary sweet beautiful Mary. Tonight I almost lost our little Dean. As sure as he was of anything, if he had, John knew Mary would have come from heaven herself to kill him. John replayed the night's event in the barn, Dean's conception in a whole other barn and his son's birth literally in his arms. Unsure of how long he stood there, John finally turned the water off and dragged himself out of the sanctuary of the cold water. He dried off, changed and walked out.

He ever as a mouse quiet looked in on Sam. His youngest was sleeping soundly with his Amos doll in hand. In a rare attempt at family normallacy he had taken the boys to a town fair. The Winchester boys had been back home in the sunflower state of Kansas. Dean bought Sam the Amos doll after taking him to see the puppet show. Hours and hours of Amos stories he has heard Dean tell Sam. When ever Dean needed Sam to quiet down or wanted to keep his mind off something. Amos and Craven had another one of their amazing adventures. It was through Amos and Craven Sam learned about life. If John had only known then...

Closing the door he headed to his room. John put his almost steady hand on the knob. Leaned in and rested his now clean head against the wooden barrier between calm resignation and swirling emotion pain then he sighed. Opening the door John walked in to see his son ramrod straight on the bed, next to the belt. Pulling the side chair up to the bed, he quietly sat in front of his son. John looked at Dean his unyielding mini warrior. Oh hell Dean he thought and not for the first time that night.

Dean had yet to look at him. That changed the minute he spoke. "Dean?" The single father inquired to his older son. "Yes sir." His scared little one said. Oh, he was doing a passing job at hiding it, but he could see the fear in his boy's eyes. Not of the belt, fear of him. Fuck. He thought to himself. John knew he needed to mend this situation.

Dean thought John didn't love him anymore. He wasn't afraid of the punishment he was afraid of his father leaving him. Dean tried so hard to do everything so John didn't have too. John was wise to his older son's way of thinking. 'If he doesn't have to worry about the little stuff then he will stay.' Nothing was more important to Dean than family, not just Sammy, family. John, Sam and Dean, they were the Winchester Family. Now Dean was thinking 'not only did I do something wrong, I broke a rule a big rule, the rule. This means my Dad won't love me anymore.'

"I am sorry I lost my temper and control tonight, I should never have smacked you the way I did." His son's expression remained unchanged as John continued to talk. "I was just so very scared that you could have been seriously hurt or died. When that hay pick went breezing past your head, my heart stopped."

At this his sons bravado failed, his strong Winchester chin quivered a little and his eyes grew watery. "I am sorry, Dad. I heard you scream and it was just like the scream you gave that night." John's throat got tight, 'that night.' "Dean, I love you son and I am not going to leave, come here" John said with his arms open. His son embraced him with all the strength his little body had.

"I'm sorry Dad for scaring you. I had to be there. I had to save you." John's throat developed a very large knot. His son continued. "I guess we scared each other." Out of the mouths of babes. The two Winchesters sat there on the chair for quite a while.

John was a little startled when Dean said. "I'm ready Dad. I already told Sammy he might hear you taking care of business. Despite the seriousness of the situation John smiled. He used that phrase all the time. "Didn't want him to be scared or hear something and…" His son's voice trailed off. Dean was nothing if not brave. John knew he had to go through with this. A rule was a rule you broke it there was a consequence. There would come a time when this would pay off and protect the boys. Start as you mean to go on. Even though at this point John thought they both had pain enough to spare.

"Come on Dean." John said as he picked up the belt and opened the door. His son looked at him, with question in his eyes. "This is between you and me. We can settle it out back." There was no need to embarrass Dean any further. His heart hurt and his backside would soon follow. John walked with his son out to the wood-chopping stump. He sat down and patted his knee.

Later that night, he tucked a very sore Dean in. Both Winchester men had puffy eyes. "How are you feeling Dean?" The concerned father asked his son. "I would be lying to your sir if I didn't say it hurts," replied his son very pragmatically. Being pragmatic was an ability Dean carried with him into his adult years. "It will hurt worse in the morning." John said gingerly. "Yes sir I imagine it will." Dean responded, his voice horse.

"Son, you do know why I had to do this?" His wise beyond his year's son who was currently on his side, probably because his bottom was on fire said, "Because I broke the most important rule. We both made promises. I promised not to break the rule. You promised to beat my backside if I did. One day I will look back on this and know it was for the best." The cold hard truth stared them both in the face. John kissed his son's forehead and told him he loved him. "I love you too Dad."

The wounded man closed the door to the room his sons shared, shuffled down the hall and out the back door. He limped out back to the tree stump and promptly threw up. Spanking his kids was hard enough without the emotional upheaval of the night. As it was he couldn't bring himself to beat his son with a belt. Spanked till he knew his son couldn't sit comfortably for a week and 3 very minimum force swings of the belt. That's all. When he was done, Dean turned to him. "It's okay Dad. I'm cool. I'll live." The son comforting the father how fucked up was that?

January 24, 2005280 South, California

John looked in the rear view mirror making sure the birthday boy was still behind him. Parents would always be concerned about their children. No matter how old they were they always be yours to worry about. He could see Dean tapping the steering wheel with his fingers. Angels above only knows what tape he had playing. If he had to guess though, one of the many Sam had made him through the years. Dean saw him and raised his fingers in a mock salute. John returned the sentiment.

January 20, 1988Chadron, Nebraska

The next morning Dean was slow to move. He made a valiant and sincere effort though. Little Sammy did everything he could for his brother, without trying to draw attention. Poor tyke his plan failed miserably. Not that John let him in on that fact. John was more concerned about Dean than Sam was.

That night Dean asked to go to bed early, imagine him asking to go to bed early. Dean who never needed any sleep, his backside must have smarted something fierce. 'What did I do?' John still felt sick about everything that had transpired. Sam approached him. Ah four-year-old reasoning, what a wonder to behold.

"Dad," stated as firmly as a little one in cowboy-covered pajamas could. "Yes, Sammy." His father replied. "I am making a cake for Dean's birthday and need your help." Whatever John Winchester had thought his son was going to say. This was not it. Not by a long shot. He sent a silent thank you to Mary.

He had heard his sons earlier 4:00am conversation when he walked down the hall to the bathroom to check his stitches. "Dean, Dean are you okay?" Sam asked his brother in a soft voice. Deans weak reply relayed how much discomfort he was experiencing. "I'm cool Sammy. I'm cool." The younger brother asked the question he most feared the answer to. "Does Dad still love you?" Oh hell, John thought.

"When I saw him hit you last night, jumping crows Dean, I thought he was gonna kill you. It is all my fault." His fault, John looked at the door. As is if might answer his question. "Sammy it's not your fault, I went in the barn because I thought Dad was going to die. Not because you begged me." Oh holy hell, John looked at the door harder. They were going to have to have a family discussion.

"Dad told me he was sorry about smacking me, so we are good. And besides, I knew the rules." Sam, the inquisitor, was not one to let things go. "What happened last night? I heard Dad help you into bed." "You were up? I told you to sleep." A week sounding Dean stated. "I was scared for you. If you needed help, I wanted to be able to help you. You always help me when something feels bad or hurts." Replied Sam as if his brother should have known, but was letting him off the hook.

"Does it help?" John heard Sam ask. Does what help he thought? "It always helps when you put it on my bruises and ouches." Sam went on. "Yes, Sammy it does. Please don't let Dad catch you. I don't know if I am up to another round just now." John could hear the exhaustion in his older son's voice. What ever Sam had done there would be no more rounds, ever if he could help it.

Coming out of his thoughts the dad heard his younger son's reply. "I carried it in my shirt and then wrapped it in your blue racing car one. It was dirty so, if it was a little wet…." John smiled. Dean always put ice on Sam's bumps and bruises, told him it would make it numb so he wouldn't feel as bad. He sincerely hoped it helped Dean. Use all the ice in the freezer if he had to.

"Dean, I am sorry," sniffled Sam. "Sammy, I told you it is okay. "Dad loves me, both of us. I, not you broke the rules. Please." John could hear his older son's energy waning. He could also detect a slight lack of confidence in the 'Dad loves me, both of us' statement. "Sammy you know what you could do that would help? You could curl up with me, like you do with Amos." Leave it to Dean to make everyone feel better. Later when John looked in on his little centurions that was how he found them. Sammy snuggled in his brother's embrace. Would that someone would hold him like that.

"Okay, Sammy" replied the truth be told relieved father. "What do you need me to do?" The serious moppet hair little one went on to explain to him he wanted to make an Oreo cake. Dean had made him one with Reece's - Sammy's favorite. He wanted to repay the favor by using Oreo's. Both the Winchester boys in front of the fire knew Dean's love of Oreo's. "I have money saved Dad. You just have to take me and reach the stuff on the shelves I can't." John wondered how much a boy at his age could save.

"Sammy," the father patted his knee. His youngest looked at him reluctantly, climbing up nonetheless. Anything for Dean, his father figured. These boys would always have each other. John rubbed his son's back. "Sammy, do you have any questions about what happened to your brother?" Not wanted to deepen the chasm he could see forming. "No Dad, Dean explained it to me. I understand we both do. You break the rules, there are consekqwenses." Some words were still big at 4, his son continued. "And you love us."

Sam looked as if he thought that may or may not be true. If Dean told him though, then it must. "Sammy, I love you both very much. More than you can understand. What you saw in the barn was your Dad making a mistake. I should have never hit Dean like that. I was scared and fear took over my brain." His son's eyes widened at the admission adults make mistakes, even dads. "We love you too Dad." With that his cowboy covered son rested his head on John's shoulder.

"Now Sammy lets get one thing straight, you do not need to pay for Dean's birthday cake. Do you understand me?" The father questioned. "Yes Dad I understand." A thought formed in John's mind. "Sammy, do you know how to make a cake?" John tried to hide a smile at his son's answer and reaction. "Yes, I helped Dean when we made yours. Besideses, if we need help and you are sneaky you can read the card with the cake sticker on it. It is in Dean's blue bag." Sam informed his father, complete with a duh expression. John smiled sadly. Dean kept Mary's box of recipe cards.

"He needs a card. I am going to make him one with a racing car on it, a black one. Are you going to make him a card Dad?" Sam rolled on. John figured with a decent amount of certainty Dean would one day drive like a racecar driver. The boy had a passion for cars. "I don't know what I am going to do for Dean." Although he knew he needed to do something. The kid had to know he was loved. "We will go in the morning Sammy and get the fixin's for the cake." John told his youngest son. 'What indeed was he going to do?'

"What about Dean? It's gotta be a surprise." John seriously doubted his older son would be running at full steam tomorrow. "We will tell Dean he has to fill all the bottles, clean and bless all the weapons in Dad's trunk." Sam looked at his father like he was going to be imposing another punishment on his brother. John figured Dean would be grateful. He could stay off his bruised bum and help his father. "Don't worry Sammy Dean will be happy about this. I promise." Sam nodded at this. "Good night Dad" said his determined four year old lone ranger.

"I will be in soon to tuck you in." John replied. When Sam had cleared the corner he turned and looked into the fireplace. A birthday cake with Oreo's, no road to recovery was complete without a chocolate sandwich with marshmallow in the middle.

January 20, 1988Chadron, Nebraska

John woke up about 5am and headed into the kitchen. He smelled coffee. This was curious, coffee? One day he knew he sons would drink it, but 4 and soon to be 9. "Hello?" John said to the kitchen. Not expecting a response he was startled when he heard "Good Morning Sir." "Dean what are you doing up this early?" John asked and realized when his older son took an involuntary step back asked a little too harshly. "I wanted to make breakfast sir, since I wasn't able to make dinner last night." His first-born uttered in a strong yet exhausted tone.

John took a chair out and sat down. "Come here Dean." John kept eye contact with his son. Dean took a few small steps and stood in front of him waiting. John brought his hands up to Dean's waist. He sighed when his son flinched but held his ground. "Dean we have to get a few things straight. Please son, its okay to call me Dad. Now, you are not responsible for this family, I am. I let you cook, because Sammy, myself, and all the angels up there know it tastes a whole load better when you do. However, you are not under any obligation to. There will be no punishment if you are unable to cook. Well eating my sloop maybe but that is all." At least he got a small smile at that one. He could feel the tension in his battered sons body lessoning.

"Now, I have to go into town today." Dean's face turned white at the thought, all those bumps. He could do it. "Okay, sir. Dad." Dean had the resolve of a whole Army. "I'll get Sammy ready. "No, no, no." John said to his son. "We aren't finished here." It took all of his Corps training not to blanch at the look on his son's face, no child should be that terrified of a parent. He could see Dean's thoughts swarming. 'Here it comes, Dean I have decided to leave.'

Swallowing hard John talked with his hazel eyed mini me and continued on his course. "Dean, as evidenced by your shotgun wielding on Tuesday night I think you are ready to help with more of the hunting." John smiled at this son; grateful the look on his small face went from one of determined resolve to trepidatious wonder.

"I thought I would take Sammy into town. You could stay and fill all the bottles with holy water, clean and bless all the weapons." The father looked at his son, a look filled with compassion. Dean was quiet it for a few seconds and looked at him.

"Make sure he doesn't go overboard on the cake. We have enough eggs, sugar and flour here." Dean smiled when he said this. "Please don't let on to your brother that you know. It has to be a surprise," asked John. "Complete shock Dad, you will see complete shock on my face," replied his son eyes twinkling.

John touched a gentle hand to his young warriors face. "Seriously Dean, I want to give you more responsibility on the hunt. When you are feeling at little more agile son we will go outside and practice more with different weapons and such. You have earned it." Dean looked at his Dad thinking, this had to be the greatest present his dad had ever given him.

John gently and taking his time moved his hand to rest on Dean's battered bottom. "How are you feeling? And tell me the truth, please? Don't tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me how you feel," beseeched the worried dad to his son. "I'm okay," was Dean's somber response. "Damn it all to hell Dean, don't tough it out." John was quick to let out. So much for not scaring his son, not only did his little one flinch, he then went statue still in his hands.

Expelling a calming breath, John looked at his son, making sure they were eye to eye. "Dean it is over. There will be no more punishment. Do you understand me? I am concerned, please tell me how you doing." Dean's face softened and his strong Winchester chin bobbed reflexively. "Yes I understand. It hurts Dad. Sitting is still kind of uncomfortable, okay real uncomfortable. I would still rather stand. The shower this morning was pure torture, it felt like you…" Dean voice trailed off.

Oh hell, this had to be the one place with decent water pressure. John could still feel the heat through his sons racing car adorned pajama bottoms. Sighing, John very carefully asked his next question. Male pride was a tricky thing. Even at almost 9. His son was after all a Winchester.

Calmly and delicately John asked "Dean would you mind if I looked at your backside?" His son gave him a look that said he would mind very much, but nodded in the affirmative. John needed to make sure there was no lasting damage. Dean slowly turned around, tension back and at the ready in his little thrashed body. He knew what his son was thinking, he is going to look and decide I need more. His brave son was ready to stoically take 'another round.' Time will lead him to trust his father again. Until then, John slipped a finger behind his son's waistband and hells bells. It was a mesh of bruises and welts. Oh Mary, I did this to our son.

John moved his hands to his lap. "You can turn around now son." Hazel eyes, her eyes, filled with resigned fear looked at him. "Imp, what do you say you and I take our cups outside?" John chuckled at his son's change in features. Imp was an exclusive name between the two of them. John only pulled it out on special occasions. Fear to questioning was a step in the right direction.

"You put the cereal in the bowls and I will take our hot beverages outside." John told his son. He poured a cup of coffee his little homemaker brewed, testing a sip. John wasn't surprised to find it just right, even though he was fully prepared to feign enjoying it. Pulling another mug down from the cupboard, he grabbed a white packet from the jar and dumped the contents in.

Dean looked at him out of the corner of his eye. An eye that might have had the barest hint of a twinkle, John smiled. Once outside the two Winchester's stood white mugs in hand watching the sun come up. The first of many sunrises they would watch together.

"Okay Dad, do we have everything?" Asked his littlest one who was on an important mission. The mission was to make this the best birthday possible for his big brother Dean and maybe a day for them all to celebrate a new beginning. "Yes, Sammy. We're good." Was the reply of the somewhat exhausted father to his son's question. The two shoppers stored their purchases in the back of the marginally dented Chevy pickup.

John walked his youngest around to the passenger door. Sam stopped abruptly, causing John to bump into him. Sam looked at him then sent his attention back to what had caught it in the first place. John followed his son's eyes and smiled. Grabbing his overall covered sons hand they made their way down the cracked sidewalk to the antique store. There sitting in the front window of the ironically named WWW Antiques was a black model 67 Impala.

Of all the gifts in the world there could not be a more perfect one for Dean. Sam looked up at his dad and frowned. John did a double take. Frowning? Why was Sam frowning? Reaching his free hand into his blue and white pinstriped overalls pocket Sam slipped something out of it and into John's free hand. "Do I have enough?" John looked at his son unmoving. "You only said you would get the cake." His determined son finished with barley audible sigh.

John released his Sam's tiny hand and knelt to his eye level. "Sammy we will have to go in first and ask. If you don't maybe we can split the cost." Explained John knowing he could more than pay for his son's gift. Also knowing Sam needed to have a hand in it. Sam's brown-green eyes looked at him with something akin to doubt. "Okay Dad," was his son's quiet reply.

Two of the three W boys walked into the musty box smelling store hand in hand. Sam was very careful to keep his free hand in his pocket, not wanting to break something. John and Sam stopped in front of the cash counter and waited for the elder looking lady behind the large desk to finish her call. Call completed she looked up at John and down at Sam. Sending what he hopped was a knowing look to Betsy or so her nametag read, John nudged his youngest son.

"Excuse me ma'am, can you please tell me the cost of the Chevy Impala model in the window?" Sam asked in his polite voice. After the boys would 'go to bed' Dean would give Sam pointers on diplomatic interaction. Please, thank you, you are welcome and such. Mary would have been so proud. For the most part they maintained these traits into adulthood.

"Well dear I don't know let me just get it and see." As Betsy navigated her way to the window display, they had just received an estate donation; tables, lamps and other odds and ends were placed haphazardly here there and everywhere. Betsy questioned the focused little one in his Oshkosh Be Goshes. "Do you like Impala's young man?" Sam looked up at John for permission to answer. John nodded and smiled at him.

"It is my big brothers birthday on Sunday and he LOVES Impala's. He told Dad he wants to get a 67 when he is old enough. So until then, I thought this might work." Sam explained to the nice looking lady in the rose colored sweeter with a genuine smile. Judging by the determined look in the young mans eyes, well as much of the eyes that weren't distorted by horrible looking bangs, this brother must be very important to him.

Betsy had the model in hand and carefully made her way back to Sam. She crouched down in front of him and handed the model over for inspection. John released Sam's hand so he could give the car a once over. The work someone had done of the car was specific and detailed. "Thank you ma'am, it is a very nice car and black, which is cool. My brother wants a black one." Sam said handing the car back to Betsy. She looked up at John and smiled. Turning to Sam, "What do you think dear? Will your brother like this car?" Betsy directed her questions at the sincere young man in front her. "It rocks."


	4. Blindman

No I don't own these characters. Would love to take Jeffrey Dean Morgan home with me. Thank you to the kind people who took the time to review. It warms a writer's heart. Just to let you know I do have the next few chapters scribed. I will post as fast as I can. Though I must say reviews will spur me along. Cheers.

January 24, 2005280 South, CaliforniaJohn Winchesters Truck

As John's mind wandered out of his stroll down memory lane of birthdays past his phone rang. He sighed, the sigh of an old man who spent one to many years on the road to nowhere. The timorous father didn't need to look at the caller id to know who was calling. Bracing himself John flipped open his phone. He attempted to keep his voice neutral.

"Yes, Sam." He wondered when his youngest son would contact him. For Dean, John knew Sam would swallow his hard earned pride, hidden fears, and call his estranged Dad. "Hello sir." Sam's voice sounded tentative and more than a little nervous. The father knew his baby boy was scared John was too. Even with his harsh and biting parting words, John knew Sam loved his family. Not just his brother his father as well. John had no doubt in his mind Sam worried about them both constantly.

Calling their situation strained would have been nice. Things between the two were less than stellar. They hadn't spoken a word to each other since their big fight in July of 2001 and John wouldn't really call that talking. More like drawing battle lines. Both stubborn embittered men had told the other they never wanted to see or talk to each other again. John even went so far as to inform Sam he was no longer a member of the Winchester Family.

The rogue demon hunter and father wanted to keep his son safe. He couldn't do that if Sammy was out here in the big city. Well a bigger city than the Winchesters were used to. It scared John to his bones his very essence if he were the kind of man to admit his weaknesses, even to himself, which he was not. Regardless of what Sam thought it wasn't because he was a militant father and didn't love him or cared what he thought or wanted.

John just wanted to protect his boys and he didn't know any other way. It was the same psychological barrier Sam employed. If John hurt Sam than maybe his kid wouldn't miss him. If the little shit didn't miss him than there was no reason to worry. The father knew he was being a ridiculous ass.

"Where are you?" His straggly haired son questioned with an overly cautious and playing it safe voice. John's reply earned a wary chuckle from Sam. Still wary was better than no chuckle at all. "Between a red Mini, whatever the hell they are called and a Ford truck that is towering over my baby. Really who needs wheels that big? I think my girl is feeling a little boxed in." "In other words you are caught in mid morning traffic sir?" Sam asked with a bit of guarded humor in his voice.

'Hells bells,' the weary father thought a chuckle and a small bit of humor from Sam. Continuing on before the calm atmosphere between them could change. "I think we are still about 30 clicks out Sammy." The Redwood City bound man said. "Thank you sir." Sam replied all his feelings heavy in his voice.

John sighed, 'sir.' There were times when he actually loathed that phrase. Not wanting upset his twenty one year old he ignored it. Sam twenty one, where had the time gone? "You're welcome son." Unbeknownst to the other both men were smiling when they hung up their phones.

45 minutes later, one slightly beat up Chevy pickup and one sweet looking Chevy Impala pulled of the Redwood City exit. The Stanford University student lived about ten minutes from the campus in an apartment whose outside had scene better day's probably better decades.

The displaced son still had no idea that John had made regular trip's out here to Northern California to check on him. The father would watch his boy from far enough away Sam's honed senses would not detect an owl eye in the midst. Sam might not have wanted the life he was brought up in. But he was still a trained hunter and could detect when things were not as they should be.

Now Dean that was a different story he was the best family a man could ask for. Even though he hurt like the fires of hell were on his feet, he still helped his brother find this dilapidated old place and move in. Wouldn't take no for answer. Not that at that point Sam would have argued with his elder brother. Some how where John failed Dean could succeed with Sam, when his greathearted older son wanted too.

Sam ditching his family for the West Coast had grieved them both. The lacerations after the battle had been deep. When the war was over each Winchester processed the events in their own unique manner. John brooded and Dean well he brooded for a while then he wisecrackered as his mother would say.

July 11, 2001Hardesty, Oklahoma

The night of the epic fight between Sam and John, Dean didn't smart mouth he stood between Sam and John. Switzerland as John liked to call it. His old soul progeny was the Winchester family Switzerland. John had watched Dean's body language and keen eyes. 'Don't you lay a hand on him.' Oh the infuriated father in him had been tempted at that point, but refrained. Sam always knew the right buttons to push.

Not just his Dad's buttons, his brothers buttons as well. With a feral stance Sam turned on the one person who would truly do anything for him. "What the fuck Dean? I don't need you to fight my battles. I have never needed you. Who needs a brother like you?" John watched his oldest son's face contort in anguish. Sam scored a direct hit.

The disquieted father didn't know what Dean was going to do. His boys rarely argued adolescence and minor disagreements aside. Dean looked at his father, his emotions raging on his face. The broken brother grabbed his jacket off the iron coat hook and with shoulders full of tension walked out. Sam watched his tormented sibling go with a smug satisfied look.

Without another thought John smacked that look off, hard. This was the first time he hit Sam across the face. John's fist was closed and tight, the minute his knuckles connected with his sons check the skin split. Oh he had been at the point where he wanted to hit Sam, more than once. When ever that happened Dean was usually there to run interference or he walked away. This time there was no Dean and Sam had it coming. More than had it coming. "Samuel. Despite what you think I have never been disappointed in you. Until now."

The force with which John punched Sam was enough to knock him on his ass. John looked down at his six foot four son disgust evident on his face. "Get the fuck up kid." He spat. Sam looked at his father, his eyes starting to register true fear. John watched the thought cross his boy's face. Dean isn't here to stop him, Sam might have strength in him but his was no match for John. Especially not when he this enraged.

"That's right Samuel the brother you don't need isn't here to protect you." Sam was a little sluggish as he "got the fuck up." When he did John could see the blood running out of Sam's mouth. His check was already starting to swell, small amounts of red sticky fluid trickling out of the cut. "Since you are in such a hurry to leave, go pack your fucking things." His youngest continued to stare at him eyes slightly unfocused.

"You got what you wanted kid. Now go pack your shit and get the hell out." John made sure to increase the volume in his voice. He wanted to torture his son. With slightly lethargic feet Sam dragged himself into the bedroom and put his meager belongings into his backpack and satchel. The satchel had been a gift from his unneeded brother Dean on Sam's 16th birthday.

John knew he should let Dean drive it off. He just couldn't. He had to call. Parents would always worry about their children. "Yes sir." Dean had answered on the first ring his voice dead. "Son, I just…" Now that John had his oldest on the phone he didn't know what to say. Dean filled the void. "Sir, I should not have interfered. I know it was wrong. It's just…"

Oh hell Dean's voice went from dead to beyond resignation. Not that he would admit it but Dean's biggest fear, yes he did have one, was that of abandonment. His brother had just walked out of his life he was going to do what was needed to keep his father.

"You did what you thought was best at the time, I won't fault you for that." Taking a deep breath John continued. "Are you okay Dean?" His firstborn's flippant reply caused John to take another deep breath "I'm cool sir. Sammy wants to cut his losses who am I to stand in his way?" The father was wise to Dean's escape and evade ploy. Two could play at that game.

"Just don't forget we have to leave for Farmington in the morning." John reminded his twenty two year old of their imminent trip to the Four Corners Region of New Mexico. "Yes sir" with the yes drawn out a little, was Dean's somewhat caustic reply. Even though John was over the phone he could still see Dean saluting.

With the phone conversation with the road loving son complete John waited for the foul tempered one to exit the bedroom of the apartment they were currently using. His friend Caleb had a contact down here that was letting the ragtag Kansas natives use his apartment while he was out of town.

The father didn't have to wait long for his mean spirited pain in the ass to vacate the sanctuary of the dull yellow room he and his sibling had shared. When Sam walked out he had his Jansen backpack over one shoulder and his brown leather satchel over the other. The shit looked him in the eye a laughable attempt at bravado in them. John was not impressed by the kid's audacity.

John grabbed his son by his shirt, a hand me down from Dean, the brother he had told he never needed. The father made sure he and his behemoth son were nose to nose. "This is the end of the road Samuel. We are done, finished. You wanted out of this family. You got your wish. I don't ever want to see your shadow in my path again or hear your voice in my ear. Not if you are sick, injured or the reaper is knocking on your door, ever. You are no longer a welcomed part of the Winchester linage."

The former Marine watched Sam's face fall. Then he just nodded and spit out "that's fucking fine with me. I don't ever want to darken your path again or hear you voice in my ear, sir." The sir part was said with such pathetic vehemence John laughed, a mean cruel maniacal laugh. With that the worn out father turned around and faced the window. John couldn't watch his baby leave.

When he heard the door open, he gave his son one final admonishment, all without turning to face him. "Samuel. You fix things with your brother. Or you really will be alone in the world and trust me that ain't a place you want to be. Dean is the best damn kin anyone could hope to ask for, without him you would have been long dead." Then not waiting to hear the door close John walked into his bedroom and cried, sobbed actually. 'Where did it all go wrong?'

July 12, 2001Hardesty, Oklahoma

It was just before dawn when John heard the front door open and close. He could tell his usually devil mare care son was trying to be quiet just in case his father wasn't up. John listened as his son hit the can and then headed for the kitchen. Then he heard the kitchen faucet, the pipes in this place were old and rattled like death was at their junctions.

Eventually the buzz from the coffee machine sounded, Dean was drinking coffee. That could never be considered a good thing he must have driven all night. Watching the reflectors on the road from behind the wheel of his '67 Impala was one of Dean's favorite things to do. At least it calmed his raging storm the concerned father mused.

When John walked into the kitchen the sight that greeted him fractured his already fissured heart even further. Dean his even keeled rock's face was red and puffy. Kid didn't even try to hide it. They were all in pain. John would wager the miniscule amount of coin in ripped jeans pocket that Sam was somewhere close having cried his eyes out. Once the anger resides the realization of all that has occurred sets in and the tears come.

The son that stayed with his father was looking out of the window watching the sun come up. Dean's calloused hand resting on the cracked kitchen sink. When he finally turned to his father John's bravado took a hit. Normally Dean kept it in buried and tucked away. John had told the boys, if you show a weakness it can be exploited. A maneuver he had been guilty of employing. It was only to make the boys tougher and keep them alive. Guess maybe he did his job a little to good with Sam.

Dean's eyes were sad and distant. John knew how his boy felt. He watched Dean pull out a mug and pour him a cup. John took a long swig welcoming the searing sensation that followed. His observant offspring took in the matching red and puffy face his dad was wearing. "Well sir, I charted out the best way to get to Farmington." John seized the topic, a job he could talk about. The loss their family just suffered, he wasn't up to that yet.

July 13, 2001Farmington, New Mexico

The hunt in Farmington had been the hardest job John had completed since the Captain Pierce barn clearing. Dean was efficient but nothing else. What John would have given just to hear one smart aleck comment. Alas there was none to be had. Dean was just shy of robotic. He went in took care of business, almost ruthlessly.

One of John's former United States Marine Corp's recon buddies Alexander Hummingbird had called and asked for help. John had always like and respected Alex he was a competent Marine. He was also very familiar with the world John lived in, he understood there were things in this world that shouldn't be there. When the Haashch'eeh Dine'e or Holy Man, had called John and begged him for help, it was an easy yes. Since the former Gunny had last scene the retired Master Sergeant the man had studied to become a shaman, embracing his ancestry.

The Winchester hunters were tracking a chindi or malevolent spirit of the Dine Bahane or Navajo people. The enervated friend of John's had tried unsuccessfully to perform the Blessing Way so that the not so dearly but very departed member of his clan could go to ciditah, the Navajo afterworld. Mathew Runningbrook had other ideas. He had no desire to access the xajinal, the hole of emergence that lead to the ciditah. Figures John thought. Why would a ghost go easy when he could wreak havoc?

It had taken three long exhausting days, but the trio had successfully sent Mr. Runningbrook, running to the afterworld. After the task at hand was complete Alex gave John and Dean a proper tour of the reservation. Not just the power vortexes, a real tour including a detailed oral history of the Dine Bahane. When his wooer of all things female didn't even so much as flirt with the pretty girls who threw themselves at his feet John knew all was not well.

July 17, 2001Farmington, New Mexico

With the job concluded and a good nights rest under their leather belts John decided they needed to recharge their batteries. He suggested the two head to Blue Earth, Minnesota to see Pastor Jim Murphy. Maybe Jim could get through to Dean. Make his intellectual and emotion minds come to terms with Sam's leaving.

As they were packing their things Dean's phone rang. John watched as his somewhat despondent son looked at the caller id. Then sighed in silent consolation as the boy hit the ignore button. Sam it had to be. The heavyhearted father then studied his loyal warrior Dean's face it was a mask of barley contained rage. Ah, we are at the anger stage. Grief had many stages John knew them all well. The kid's phone rang every hour from 11:00pm for the next twenty four hours. His voicemail filled up a few hours into the ticking clock.

July 18, 2001Casper, Wyoming

The bone weary men drove out of New Mexico, straight through Colorado and through half of Wyoming before stopping for a real break. The road rebels had stopped in Casper, Wyoming for some diner and a few winks of shuteye.

It was over sloppy joe's John mentioned Dean might want to clear his voice mails. In the event one of their contacts was trying to reach them. He remembered watching Dean's face. His son cocked an eyebrow the first flippant Dean sign in days. Then he watched as his boy cleared all the voicemails from his brother not bothering to listen to a single one.

When Dean's phone ceased ringing every hour on the hour both John and Dean let out sighs of relief. Maybe they would be able to catch some good zzz's. One thing Sam was good at was being relentless. A dog with a bone wasn't as one tracked as the moppet haired Winchester. Sammy gave them a small reprieve, there were no attempts made between the hours of 11pm and 4 am.

July 19, 2001Casper, Wyoming

The wayward travelers were watching the sun come up, mugs in hand when John reached over and cupped the back of his son's neck. "Kid I know you are pissed and even if you won't admit it out loud, hurt. It is hard to tell which is winning at this point. But you know as well as I do son, you can't cut him out of your life. Sammy made a mistake he was desperate like a caged animal. He saw the jugular and went for it."

Without turning to face his father the detached and drained son said, "For all his rebelling against it. I guess he did pay attention to all you taught him." It was the mirthless laugh that disturbed John the most. Everyone has a turning point, when something inside your heart changes. This was Dean's.

July 20, 2001Blue Earth, Minnesota

When the Winchesters finally arrived in the North Star State, Pastor Jim had met them with open arms and a quiet understanding about the Sam situation. The good Shepard of the Lord also asked them for a favor. With the amount of times Jim had pulled their asses out of the fire, neither man could turn him down.

Dean continued to ignore his little brother's ma bell attempts at connection for another couple of days. Sammy never let up he kept calling, calling and calling. John had to admit Sam did listen to him. He was trying to fix things with his brother, trying being the operative word.

July 22, 2001Ardmore, South Dakota

The hunters had been studying a map for South Dakota, the Buffalo Gap region to be specific when Dean finally relented and answered his kid brother's umpteenth call. What transpired next actually served to scare John as he couldn't help but hear the conversation between his children, malaise evident in their voices.

"Sammy, Dad and I are a little busy at the moment. Don't really have time to chat maybe later kid." John could hear Sam's steadying breath. "Dean I need to talk to you." Neither Winchester staring at the American Automobile Association visual aide missed the emphasis on the word need. "Sammy, you need to talk to me?" Dean's emphasis on need didn't go unnoticed either. "Talk to me about what?" John could hear the tears in his youngest voice. "I am sorry about what I said."

Before Sam could continue good ole smart ass Dean did. "Dude after nineteen years together you can't expect me to remember everything you have said. Now Sammy if you are just calling to chew the grass. Dad and I are really busy. Pastor Jim has called in a favor and we don't want to keep the almighty servant of God and the angels waiting." "Good night Dean." "Later dude."

John watched as his psychologically battered son put the phone down and go back to studying the Midwest topography. It was as if nothing had happened. Guess Sammy wasn't the only son to pick up pointers on attacking the jugulars. The junior of his two Winchester boys called his big brother for another round the next night. When he did the timing couldn't have been worse.

July 23, 2001Ardmore, South Dakota

John and Dean were at the bottom of South Dakota in the Buffalo Gap National Grassland an area that bordered Nebraska. It was almost a straight shot down to Chadron, Nebraska. Like Dean needed another fucking beating. The remaining Winchester hunters had been so focused on their prey they both almost jumped out of their respective skins when the missing piece in the Winchester trifecta called.

Expelling a pent up breath Dean snapped his phone open. "Sammy is it life or death?" The nineteen year old was smart enough to hear the edge in his brothers voice and know it was from we are in the middle of a hunt. Not fuck off shit head I am not ready to talk with you yet. "Bye Dean." The still angry brother snapped his phone shut and went back to the job at hand.

July 24, 2001Ardmore, South Dakota

Dean made his dumb shit little brother wait another day for good measure then called him. Truth was even though he didn't want to he missed Sam. They had spent nearly every day of their lives together. Not all of them were good days but they were theirs nonetheless. John knew when Dean headed outside the house they were staying in after the culinary delight of beans and toast he was going to call his brother. It was odd staying in such a nice place. A real house, compliments of the friend of Pastor Jim's they had assisted.

Dean sat in the front porch swing, sighed heavily and opened his phone. "Dean?" The older brother could hear the fear in his teenage sibling's voice. Good he thought Sam could use a little fear. "It is I, the one and only Geek Boy. You called." Sam took a deep breath Dean could just imagine him tucking his forever flyaway hair behind his ears.

"Dean I know I have absolutely no right to ask. Please just let me get out what I need to say before you hang up. Please." It was the second please when his Sam's voice broke that did it. "Well since you asked so nicely dude, lay it on me."

Sam opened and closed his mouth trying to form his thoughts into words and sentences. "I am sorry for what I said. I won't lie to you Dean. I knew what I was saying and that it would hurt you. I didn't mean it though. Please you have to know that." Dean closed his eyes, rubbed his hand over the tired hazel windows to his soul a soul that was tormented and in pain.

"Dean?" His younger brothers calling his name broke through the swirling thoughts in his head. "What? Dude, you told me to keep a cork in it till you were done. I was trying to oblige your request." The exhausted Winchester currently gazing at a White Spruce tree followed up the statement with a sigh for effect. "Dean, please, I am so fucking sorry. You are my brother, my best friend. I need you to…" The older brother heard his younger one's speech catch.

Dean wasn't in the mood to give the kid another break, one per grovel infused conversation. "You need me? Thought you didn't need me, never needed me. And for that matter, thought you didn't need a brother like me. So what gives with the Dean you are my brother and best friend crap?" Dean took a deep breath and continued. Forcefully silencing whatever Sam was going to say to his brothers pelting questions.

Using Sam's phrases on purpose Dean hissed "What the fuck Sam? I am no longer needed to fight your battles. You never needed me. So tell me who needs a brother like you?" Dean knew he drew blood and in some twisted way relished it.

He could hear Sam's chocked sobs on the other end of the phone sobs that would have once made Dean concerned. That would have dropped him instantly into big brother mode. Now they just made him sick. Dean smiled with sad satisfaction as his brother hung up the phone.

Dean let it go. It was the hardest thing he had done in regards to Sam to date. A part of him wanted to call the little shit back and provide some sort of comfort. That was in the job description of being a big brother. Intellectually he knew Sam didn't mean what he said. Sam just wanted out. He couldn't stand the life they lived. If Sam only knew how Dean had argued with his father many a time on letting the kid go to college. If Dean couldn't get out, at least Sam could.

When Sam called back and Dean knew he would. Dean would provide him some of the big brother understanding he was looking for. But Sam needed to know he had hurt Dean. This wasn't one of their minor squabbles about the little things in life. Or even one their rare big arguments. This was Sam fucked up need to take responsibility for his actions. Something Dean usually let him slide on, not this time kid. Not this time.

It wasn't very long the man sitting on the rather comfy porch swing had to wait. Sam called a little before midnight. Dean was still resting his plum tuckered body outside. He thought he might even sleep out there. It was a nice cool Midwest Summer night. Dean counted three rings before he answered.

"Sam." Dean carefully kept the edge out of his voice. Sam noticed. Of course he noticed. For all Sam's faults picking up Dean's que's wasn't one of them. "Dean. I am going to hang up. Please let it go to voicemail and then listen to it, don't delete it. If you still don't want to talk to me I understand. I will wait until you do. I fucked up and fucked up big time. Good Night."

Sam clicked off. Dean stared at the phone. What the hell, he had done better than to raise a chicken. Sammy was braver than this, letting it go to voicemail? Pathetic, but Dean had skewered him pretty hard. Thinking about it, he couldn't recall a single time he had light into his brother like that. Dean waited listening to the rings. He made no move to answer. Rather impatiently he waited for his phone to beep and inform him he had voicemail. And then he waited and waited.

What the hell was his kid brother saying? When his phone finally beeped Dean was a little startled. Shaking his head he called to retrieve his message. Listening he couldn't help but smile at his brother's efforts. Waiting in the mailbox was a collection of classic rock song lyrics specifically chosen for maximum effect.

Dean had always told Sam, if you can't come up with the words dude chances are pretty good someone else has. Say it through music. Course Dean had been talking about wooing girls still had to give the shit credit. He had listened to him.

**Allman Brothers Band**, Brothers of the Road, We're all brothers of the road. Just like you we bear a heavy load. Been through hell and back again, if we don't lose we're bound to win. Some of us fell along the way.

**Black Sabbath**, Ancient Warrior, There's no end – there's no beginning – to the old man's story. Does he still remember me – From lives gone by. Oh I see his spirit rising upon the back of time, I've got nowhere to hide. Will he keep a place for me?

**Doors**, Riders on the Storm, Riders on the Storm, riders on the storm, Into this house we're born, into this world we're thrown…The world on you depends our life will never end….

**Led Zeppelin**, Nobody's Fault but Mine, Nobody's fault but mine, Nobody's fault but mine, Trying to save my soul tonight, It's nobody's fault but mine…Brother showed me the gong tonight, Brother showed me the ding, dong, ding dong….Oh, it's nobody's fault but mine.

**Bob Seger**, Shame on the Moon, Until you have been beside a man, you don't know what he wants, you don't know if he cries at night, you don't know if he don't. When nothing comes easy old nightmares are real until you've been beside a man you don't know how he feels.

**Whitesnake**, Blindman, I was dreaming about the past, why do good times never last…I was hungry feeling low, I just couldn't make out which way to go…The road is long without a friend…Be my friend, be my brother…Across the water the sun is shining, but will it ever be the same…Be my friend, be my brother, across the seven seas of wonder be the guardian of my soul…I need somebody, I need someone, I need somebody to call my own…

Dean you always told me, if you can't come up with the words dude chances are pretty good someone else has. Say it through music. I hope I have. Now that I know you are groaning at my excessive 'chick flickness' and I know this is voicemail so I can get away with it. I love you Dean, I will always need a brother like you.

After he shut his phone, Dean continued to stare at it. 'Wow, Sammy. Wow.' Dean set his phone down on the yellow and blue striped pillow he was sitting on. He ran a somewhat shaking hand through his hair. When he brought the hand down over his face he felt the wetness. Clearing his throat he picked up his phone.

"Sammy." He could actually hear how quiet his younger brother was trying to be. "Dean?" "Okay kid. You made your point. I am a good brother and you know it. You have made your apology, I have accepted. It's done, cool?" Sam's shaky voice replied, "It's done. We're cool." There was an almost audible sniffle. Dean could sense his brother's relief.

"Sam?" Now that the chick shit was out of the way, they had other important things to discuss. "Yeah Dean." "Is your cheek okay?" Dean could hear his little brother shifting. "My cheek, how did you know?" Dean moved his body so that he could lay back and kick his feet up on the flimsy stool in front of him. Fuck he was tired.

"Sammy just because you kicked the crap out of my feelings, didn't mean I had lost my head. Dad wanted to kill you. I waited outside the door just in case. A smack is one thing had he gone farther, despite your not needing me attack. I would have intervened. You are no physical match for our Dad when he is mad."

Sam knew sure as the sun would rise in the morning it was the truth. Dean would have stepped between them. He was damn lucky John let him go with a punch to the face. Sam coughed. "You are the bestest brother in the world." Both boys laughed. That statement was something Sam uttered to Dean all the time when they were little.

"That I am geek boy and don't you forget it." Dean was trying for some levity while still pulling the information he wanted to know from Sam. "Now is your baby face in one piece?" Sam didn't disappoint he chuckled at his siblings declaration then answered. "The swelling in my check and side of my baby face has gone down. Bruising is still blue and purple. It hurts to move it, other than that, I'm cool." Dean sighed, he should have toughed it out, ignored his brothers disparaging words.

John Winchester could punch like a heavy weight boxer on a good day. When he was angry well… Dean had a little experience with his Dad's anger and violence. He rubbed a hand over his neck and rested it there. Yeah he had a little experience with his Dad's anger and violence and the scars to prove it.

He slipped completely into big brother mode. "Did you ice it? Inside and out?" Dean could almost hear Sam thinking about the answer. He raised an eyebrow at the phone then, "Sam?" "No, I didn't." He didn't. "Well why the fuck not?" Then it hit Dean why. He wanted the pain he felt he deserved it. Oh Sammy. "Never mind kid, ice it now." "Yes sir." The brothers laughed at Sam's attempt to break the tension.

Dean wasn't subdued for long. "Dude, are you okay? Where are you? Do you have enough money?" Sam smiled at the phone. He could hear a little of the old Dean there maybe just maybe they would both heal. "I will okay. I will. I am still in Oklahoma. I do have enough money. It was just after what happened I didn't want to leave until…"

Dean laughed to himself, for all Sam's bluster, he would always be Sam. "Sleep dude, I need it, you need it. Especially with the relentless way you have been calling. I will see you in less than 36 hours." Dean hung up the phone. No more, he couldn't not when he need to prepare for battle with his father.

John had known what his oldest son was going to say before he said it. Dean's shoulders were square and his Winchester Chin set that particular stance was reserved for protecting his brother. He was going after Sam. John knew no matter what he said or did Dean would go. It was up to him to say the right thing to make sure Dean came back. John couldn't lose them both.

"Sir." Oh hell John thought, whenever Dean starts out with sir. Dean watched his Dad's calm façade slip a little. Good he needed him a little unsettled. "Sir, I talked with our errant geek boy and I want to go to him. I'll take him out to California; make sure he is settled and safe. The kids never been on his own and lets face it for all his brains sometimes he is a little slow. This way we will know all was done to make sure he was safe.

John sighed there was the big fear resting on their respective shoulders, Sam being unprotected. John had always taught them safety in numbers. "Okay Dean. I'm heading back to Jim in the morning." Dean rocked on his feet, opened his arms in a 'what' gesture. "Sir?" His son questioned his easy acquiesce.

John sighed and spoke with exaggerated emphasis. "I am heading to Jim in the morning." Dean dug his hands in his pockets. "You are not mad?" John cocked his head. He supposed he should be. John was just grateful the boys patched thing up and he would have some reassurance the little shit was properly protected. "Not at you Imp. Although if you keep pushing it..." Dean nodded in understanding. "Gonna hit the rack." "Night, Son." The ragged man said calmly. "Night, Dad."

July 25, 2001Ardmore, South Dakota

The next morning the remaining Winchester men set out on the respective journeys. Dean set off to Oklahoma in search of Sam at break neck speed. John pulled onto the road that would to take him to Blue Earth, Minnesota and his friend Jim at a more sedate pace. The troubled men who cared so much and couldn't always show it were seeking their own forms of absolution.

July 25, 2001Mc Cook, Nebraska

Dean peregrinated from the Buffalo Gap through Nebraska, sadistically forcing himself to go through Chadron. When he made it to Mc Cook he called Sam. "Sammy my boy, I have made it through the Cornhusker State." It never ceased to amaze Sam how much his brother loved it behind the wheel. Dean was never so at home as when he was on the road. "Dude, how fast were you going?" Dean laughed, "Why afraid I was going to hit a cow?" Sam laughed back.

"No, how long do you think it will take you to drive through Kansas?" Neither missed the drop in Sam's voice when he said Kansas. "Bout one million sunflowers, possibly two thousand cottonwoods and maybe if I am lucky and you know I will be, some of the stars they kept touting as Kansas's very own. Kid I tell you if we can make it through our difficulties than I want the stars that were the promised payoff."

Sam sighed his brothers sense of humor was an acquired taste as was his inane use of state facts. "Call me somewhere around the five hundredth thousand sunflower." Dean smiled at the request Sam wanted to know his brother was okay. "Alright geek boy will do." The Impala driver assured the nervous teenager.

July 26, 2001Hardesty, Oklahoma

Several thousand sunflowers and cottonwood tree's later Dean arrived at his intended destination of Hardesty, Oklahoma. Hardesty was a small town located at the center of Oklahoma's arm just between Kansas and Texas. Crap hole town barley earned a dark dot on the map. Sam was waiting for him at the corner in front of place they stayed just like he said he would at the end of their last conversation. Dean parked then got out and stretched. As soon as he closed the door he was engulfed by tornado Sam.

Normally Dean would have shoved him off but Sammy was crying to hard. He just couldn't. He held his little, okay younger, brother, rubbing his lower back till the hiccups came and then gently disengaged. Dean put his hand softly on Sam's chin turning his face so Dean could get a good look at the damage. Hopefully it wouldn't scar. He sighed. "Get in Sammy." The flannel clad young man watched his brother still in his hand me down shirt he had on when the big clash of the Winchesters occurred slowly walk around the front of the very dusty Impala. Dean hoped the kid had washed it.

Once inside the younger brother still a little misty eyed asked Dean, "Where are we going?" "To Cali dude, where do you think? No, first we are going to find a roach motel and sleep. Can't have me driving us into a ditch. Then off to the land of books and hopefully babes."

Sam was overwhelmed his brother was going to drive him to California. After telling him he never needed him. He was the bestest brother in the world. Not wanting to temp fate further he just said, "Thank you Dean." The older brother gave his sibling a side ways glance. Sammy not arguing he was still in shock.

Dean knew Sam loved him that his words were a defense mechanism for both of them. If Sammy hurt Dean, then Dean wouldn't miss him. If Dean didn't missed him than he had no reason to keep in contact with his family, for all the kids brains there were times when he was such a dumb ass. It would all work out in the end.

July 29, 2001Stanford, California

A few fun filled day later the Winchester Boys arrived at Stanford University home of the Cardinals. Sam checked himself in at the admissions office it was a long and arduous process. Once the forms, in triplicate were filled out the university housing representative provided a list of rental companies who rented to students. Sam and Dean checked the companies and the addresses they provided out.

They decided on the upstairs one because of the protection it afforded. You had to go through a gate and around a corner. Salt lines would also be inconspicuous, as the place wasn't really the Lawrence Courthouse kind of nice. Sam confided in Dean quietly it reminded him of the places they stayed when they were on the road. Dean sighed internally Sam might have wanted out of the life the lead. But it was the life he had grown up in and when starting out on your own it helps to have the familiar with you.

August 5, 2001Redwood City, California

Dean stayed a full week. He helped Sam furnish the place a little. The duo went to several garage sales and were able to secure a mattress and box spring. A green chair, puke green, it wasn't the most attractive of colors but comfortable as hell. Sam always read his books while sitting in a chair, legs draped over the side. They also found a small kitchen table, two matching chairs, and some lamps for mood lighting. Dean also insisted on leaving Sam with a week's worth of food. While Sam had been showering Dean used a magnet that had nicely been left by the former tenant of the fridge and tacked up a few recipes that would make the food he had last.

The night before Dean headed back to Blue Earth he went down to his beloved Impala. Which after its never end trek across Middle America and then to the west coast had been washed and waxed. Courtesy of Sam he informed his older brother it was the very least he could do after all Dean had done for him. When Dean came back up to the apartment he had a box, a big one.

"Sammy my boy promise me you will not open this till I'm gone." Sam contemplated his brother Dean was serious, seeing that Sam replied. "For what it is worth, you have my word." That night Dean did a really cool older brother thing he bought pizza and beer for dinner. Yeah Sammy was underage, but hell, this was their last night together. He had to make sure he left with his coolness in tack. Before they hit the sack at o dark hundred Dean had made sure to give Sam all the pointers he would need about how to and what to do when scoring with a girl.

August 6, 2001Redwood City, California

Sam agonizingly waited the whole next day to open the box. The more he stared at it the bigger it got. Dean wasn't one for ostentatious gift giving. If he knew Sam needed something particular and he could afford it he made sure Sam got it. Dean stopped making a big deal out of presents when Sam turned 15.

At 5:00pm the younger of the two Winchester boys figured he waited long enough. When he finally opened the box, which at this point was the size of their home state Kansas he saw an envelope with his brother's scrawl on the front. And oddly what looked to be a quilt. With now shaking hands he opened the letter.

_Dear Sammy, sorry dude, you will always be Sammy to me. No matter how much you want to be Sam. Besides its an older brothers right to raze their kid brother. Do well in school. I don't want to hear about you getting low marks. You have never had anything less than a 4.0 so don't start slacking now that I am not there to bop you over the head. Cause dude you know if I need to I will drive back out to sunny California and kick you in the ass. _

As much as you might fight me on this you know you will miss us. So I put a few things in a box for you, to remind you, you still have family out there. A family that would fight to the fucking death for you and don't you ever forget that. Ever.

_When I was knee high to a grasshopper mom used to make quilts out of dad's old flannel shirts. She told me the shirts still had Dad's warmth in them and if you wrapped the quilt around you tight you could feel safety his arms offered. So I wouldn't feel left out, she had me help with the stitching, so here is a collection of shirts Dad and I have worn… Also just incase you forget what I look like a few pic's of me and for when your anger subsides, pictures of all of us. Part of my postcard collection, you can't runaway from the past Sammy. Only separate yourself from it. And last but not least my opener. You earned it geek boy. Make me proud. Dean_

Sam folded the note and put it in his wallet. One of the few things he could ever remember his father giving him. Dean would always be the sage raven. Hurt as he still was and Sam knew it in his heart things weren't back to the way they were Dean still made sure Sam knew he was loved.


	5. Disposable Heroes

Thank you to the few nice people who took the time to leave reviews. Especially TerrysEyes. They feed a hungry writers soul with the food needed to go on. The characters are not mine, I don't own them or any of the songs used. However, should John Winchester become available…

January 24, 2005Redwood City, California

The demon hunting Chevy driving Winchesters pulled up in front of their exiled family members dwelling about thirty minutes to noon. The haggard patriarch exited his truck slowly his limbs were heavy with regret. He would be hard pressed to admit it but he was more on edge about this meeting than Sam was.

John was the father he should have swallowed his fear and pride. Sammy needed to know he was loved. 'Oh hell kid,' the nervous timeworn man thought. John's emotions were running the gambit right now volatile was a good word. His emotions were in a volatile place.

Still he couldn't help but smile as his youngest, now the tallest ran full steam towards his older brother. In a rare show of 'chick flickness' Dean allowed himself be hugged in public, not just any hug either, a bear hug. Dean embraced his moppet haired relation with the same amount of force. He missed Sammy, more than he let on. John would hear parts of their conversations and hate himself for the life he provided.

The normally phlegmatic just turned twenty six year old followed his lapse in cool manly detachment up with a mild punch to the arm. "Sammy if you sing to me, so help me I will beat your ass here and now." Dean said with out anger to his younger brother.

John's college student wasn't fooled; Dean would never actually beat Sam. Oh they rough and tumbled, but actual violence. No that was the bastard father department. Not for the first time that day did John contemplate what a fucked parent he was.

Both his boys, his wonderful strong sons turned to him matching smiles on their faces. He might even go so far as to say they were beaming from ear to ear. John looked his oldest in his hazel eyes making sure he understood just what he meant to relay "Happy Birthday Dean." The heartache filled man hoped his children didn't hear the break in his voice. If they did they were kind enough not to comment on it.

John could see it was getting a little to thick for his birthday boy so he wasn't surprised when Dean the smart mouth made an appearance. "Okay geek boy, are we going to stand out here wool gathering. Or are you going to use those manners I taught you and invite us in?" Dean admonished his brother with a sarcastic smile completely ruining any autocratic effect. John shook his head sadly, 'I taught you.'

Sam laughed a laugh only a younger brother could give at his sibling's attempt at authority. Then he punched Dean back. Through ribbing his brother, Sam turned to John. The father could see his six foot four son trying to keep the fear out of his eyes. Kid was somewhat successful. Although probably no more successful than John himself was.

With a sweeping bow and a horrible English accent Sam said, "If you will sir." Dean met his father's eyes, noting the matching looks of anxiety his father and brother wore. Dean nodded his sincere thanks. Imagine John thought, his boys happy and happy with him. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in ages and it felt good. Damn good.

The travelers followed Sam up to the apartment. John noticed everything including the iron and lead. He also noted the salt lines, salt lines that had been laid around the Winchesters for so many years. Dean had told him they choose this for the protection it afforded. He didn't doubt it was also because it resembled most of the places they had stayed throughout Sam's life plain and humble. Even with their estrangement his youngest son had wanted the familiar around. 'Oh Sammy.'

August 9, 2001Blue Earth, Minnesota

Silently taping his fingers to the music Dean looked out the window, "The road is long without a friend…" This road he was on would be long without Sammy. He missed him already his bookishness and constant pelting of questions about everything under the sun. Hell he even missed Sammy's ridiculous haircut.

"Be my friend, be my brother, across the seven seas of wonder be the guardian of my soul…" 'Oh Sammy.' The older brother thought his throat tight. 'You might have intended the words for me so I would know how much love me. Kid I do. But you are the guardian of my soul. Without you I wouldn't have one.'

"I need somebody, I need someone, I need somebody to call my own…" This was this first time in Dean's life when he wouldn't have someone to call his own. He ran a tired hand over his face not surprised to find tears tracing a lonely path down his cheeks. Dean prided himself on being the stoic type. Even the mighty fall he thought with the heaviest he could ever remember his heart being.

A few minutes later the ravaged demon hunter parked in front of the home of Pastor James Murphy's alone. Alone, he was all alone. There would be no one to talk to, no one joke with, no one to tell ghost stories to in the middle of the night when you woke up with a nightmare. Both brothers had them. Ghost stories were their defense tactic against the dark. 'What would they do now?'

Dean's body felt as if he had been filled with lead as he slowly and painfully exited the 67' Impala. With each step he climbed to the front door of the green house that had been the Winchester sanctuary since angels knew when, his resolve hardened. 'What the hell did Whitesnake know anyhow?' By the time he turned the handle cocky Dean was back.

"Gentleman, I have returned from my trip to the land of sun, babes and books." Dean said with smirk. John sighed he wasn't fooled. He could see Dean's internal struggle. Whenever his first born wanted to mask what he was feeling he resorted to raw humor. When things really got rough he used the time honored skill of deflection.

The dark hair man ran a scared hand over his face, his eyes never leaving his just returned family members face. John observed his older son's mannerisms intently. His son's face was tight and if you looked closely you could see the tear stain's. 'Oh my poor boy, I am so sorry.' The equally stoic father wished he had the nerve to actually say this to his son.

"Did you get him settled?" The widowed man asked his voice gruff, he prayed to Jim's God the fear was masked. They all had their defensive tactics. Dean had learned the fine art of deflection at his father's knee. "Our geek boy is now officially a Stanford University student."

Pastor Jim could see that despite the seriousness of the situation Dean was still proud of his little brother. It broke his heart. The lover of classic rock should have the same chance at Sam. Dean never told Sam or John but he had been accepted at Columbia, Duke and Tufts. If the man had to make an educated guess, the kid who sacrificed much more than his family realized kept the letters in his special sunflower box in his trunk.

"We checked him in. Dad you have no idea the amount of sexy chicks that go institutes of higher learning." Dean watched his Dad's face twist. "Sorry Jim." The kindly Minnesota Pastor smiled at the solider of unfortune. He had known Dean all the kid's life, he hoped one day the road would be done and serenity would be his. Jim knew the young man was in pain, the worst kind. For the cavalier twenty three year old there was no greater blow of pain than that of abandonment.

Dean had worked all his short life to keep his family together. Funny how Sam and John thought Dean was the one who never listen to the Pastors words. They couldn't be more wrong. From the time the steadfast though wiseacre could understand the words he would sit in the back of the church on Sundays and listen to Jim's sermons. The little, the teenaged, the twenty something would always listen intently when Jim talked about the importance of family. "It's alright Dean. You will always be you."

Taking a deep breath Dean continued. "Anyhow, I checked him in. Why is it all school paperwork has to be done in triplicate? Do you know after all the years of filling out his required forms; I thought college would be different. I could not have been more wrong. Stanford actually had more than all the schools the kids attended combined." Neither gentleman sitting listening to the road loving older brother missed the unconscious emphasis on the word all.

"We found him a place. A safe one it's not much to look at from the outside but the insides all right. Don't know what geek boy is going to do with all that space. I would go nuts in a place like that. He liked it though and it passed my checklist. Place is up a flight of stairs and around a corner. The building has loads of good strong iron, just in case." The drained son took this break in his mostly monologue to check his Dad's face. The reiteration of 'just in case' was sitting right there plain as day.

"We laid down a box worth of salt, around the building and inside the apartment." At this point Dean's road traveling attacked his stocky legs. He stretched his body then moved from his place at the doorframe fully into the parlor. Easing himself down on one of the plush teal armchairs he went on. "Before I headed back here to the home of the jolly green giant, I ah. Well I emptied another box, never hurts to be over cautious."

Hoping to cover his slip of bravado Dean pointed to his chest as he continued. "Cause I am a totally cool brother I took geek boy garage sale hunting. Found him a few things to furnish the place. Couldn't have him sleeping on the floor and you both know full well he would have. We found a big bed some nice man struck it rich and decided to sell his king size for a song. Sammy scored. Next place we headed to had the world's comfiest though ugliest reading chair…" John chuckled at that.

Good the exhausted vagabond thought, a chuckle is better than that stone look on his fathers face. Every man in the newly painted sunroom was well aware of Sam, reading and chairs. Because Sam's legs were beanstalk long if he read in a chair with them in front of him, someone would trip over them. So he took to reading sideways with his legs hanging over one of the arms.

"…Kitchen table made out of a nice cherry wood with a couple of matching chairs to go with it. Then I purchased a good ten days worth of food and detailed instructions on how to actually cook. Cause lets face it for all Sammy's brains he can't cook worth shit."

Before John could comment on the language Dean turned to the good man of the Lord. "Am sorry again Jim." The pastor looked at Dean, he helped to raise him. John would never admit to that, if push came to shove, Dean might. 'Oh kid, let the pain out. What have I told you, better out than in.' Besides the pain in the keester was normally very good about minding his manners with him.

"If you want to wash my mouth out, I'll find the soap." Jim smiled at the dirty blond in front of him, understanding in his eyes. "No Dean that is all right. Besides, it didn't work the last time." John guffawed, "I could turn him over my knee." Jim laughed at that, "As I recall that didn't work either." Dean laughed, "No but at least I remembered to apologize."

They all had a good chuckle. Each remembering the day a young Sam ran past Dean and he accidentally dropped a cup on his bare foot. The pain of the glass spearing him through his appendage and the shock of the rapid blood loss caused the newly minted teenager to say 'oh shit.'

John had told Dean the next time he cursed in Jim's house he would turn him over his knee. John had stayed true to his word. It wasn't that he spanked him all that hard it was the embarrassment of being just thirteen and having to receive a spanking. To make matters worse John did it front of Jim, then made Dean apologize.

"So I made sure he had food. Also, spent half a day quizzing him on possible attacks and how he would respond." Dean looked at the two men they all knew there was the big fear. Possible attacks, what would happen, safety was in numbers. Solitary wasn't a number. Knowing that the journeyman was not finished both the flannel glad men who had been listening intently looked back "and" they said in unison.

Dean's checks turned pink. He gazed out the big bay window watching though not reregistering the fact the leaves of the red pine were moving in the breeze. "And I made sure he had emergency money. Left him a hundred in small bills in his wallet." His voice dropped an octave, "Made sure five was hidden in the shotgun hilt which is under his bed, easy to reach…" When he brought his eyes back to John, his father just nodded a simple I understand. 'Well hell.' Dean thought. The plum tuckered man in blue expected an argument over that.

With no warning John stood up. "Am going out." With that the heartbroken father grabbed his worn pea coat from the hat stand and left. Not more than thirty seconds later Dean and Jim heard the rattle of John's old trusty Chevy truck. The retired Marine Corps Chaplin stood and looked out his window. Then he watched his oldest and dearest friend drive away.

When the fifty year old turned around Dean was standing hands in his torn jeans pockets a protective stance he took when trying to subjugate swirling emotion. A lot of good it did him. The wall he normally wore on his face had fallen. All the years of fighting were sitting were the bricks and mortar would have been. The sorrow he was feeling prevalent in his downcast eyes.

Jim did the only thing he could think of. He opened his arms hoping that the kid clad in a blue tattered shirt proclaiming Rock Never Dies and one whom he thought of, as his own family would take the invitation. "Come here Dean." To his amazement the stoic young man embraced him. Then he buried his head in Jim shoulder with a gut wrenching sigh.

The salty haired gentle man held his surrogate son. He rubbed Dean's back hoping to sooth the raging storm in his heart. When Jim heard the chocked sob he rested his head on Dean's. "No matter what you think Dean, you are not, do you hear me NOT alone." Dean half laughed at that. "No boy I don't mean the Lord, I know better than that." He continued to rest his dimpled chin on the young mans dirty blond covered head.

Dean was listening intently he prayed to that Lord that he say the right thing. "You brother is and will always be with you in your heart. I will always be with you in your head. Your father will always be with you on your side." "Okay." Was the quiet reply he received, the sincere doubt in the hunters voice was not lost on the man trying to provide him solace from the big bad world.

Taking a deep bolstering breath the pastor continued, "And one day, please don't argue with me on this boy, you will find someone who will be with you by your side, in your head and in your heart. I know the words love and woman in the same sentence scare you. And don't give me any of that lip about nothing scaring you. Because we both know I know different."

From somewhere near his shoulder Jim heard. "I wouldn't dream of lying to you Jim." Chuckling the pepper haired persevered along, "when you find her, please let her ease the pain. Love of a family is wonderful, but there is something to be said about the unconditional love of a woman." His shoulder region replied, "Yes sir." Disbelief was evident in Dean's hoarse voice.

Jim wished his best friend understood the toll his vendetta for Mary had taken on his boys. It wasn't so much the physical as it was the mental. Sam couldn't handle the running anymore. Dean was afraid to get close to someone for fear of what happened to his father. One day without Dean's consent it would happen. Peace be with Dean and his lady when it did. That would be no easy road. It wasn't about the destination so much as it was about the journey.

Knowing what the breach in emotional disengagement cost the Kansas native the man of the cloth gave him a break. "What do say to make up for your inappropriate verbiage you make this old man some dinner? I just bought some steaks; think you can turn them into a culinary delight?" Dean gradually stepped out the pastors embrace, "Course I can Jim. Ain't nothing in a kitchen I can't do." Jim smiled, "Ain't that the truth."

January 24, 2005Redwood City, California

When the three Winchester men made it to the dingy looking door Sam turned on the funny man charm again. "Welcome to Sam's Diner." In the last two and something hours the institute of higher learning attendee had fixed a lunch certain to quell the hunger of Gods, never mind his mere mortal family.

Kid also made an enormous cake, Oreo no doubt. Knowing Sam and John did, despite what his stubborn one thought, he probably put a whole bag of Oreo's in that cake. Nothing but the best for the bestest brother in the world. His moppet had tried when they made Dean's cake for his ninth birthday. This time there was no Dad to stop his overzealous little one. Okay big little one.

Sam set the table with real linens and all trimmings. The interested parent wondered if they were newly purchased or a gift from Dean. Upon closer inspection the father saw that they were indeed a gift from Dean. John could recall using those same blue and white striped napkins at holidays. His youngest also tacked up one of those shiny metallic looking signs that said Happy Birthday, complete with balloons. John's mind went back to Sam's last birthday before 'the fight.'

May 1, 2001Blue Earth, Minnesota

Dean had found one of those signs at the Juba's Super Value and couldn't resist. His oldest son had been running errands for both the Winchester family and Pastor Jim Murphy. When he returned from his day of the mundane as he called it his grin was in full force. John knew something was up.

"Dean, why are you smiling like a pig that just rooted in sloop?" The shits eyes sparkled a little too bright. "Oh no real reason sir." Sighing he continued hoping to get to the bottom of the why Dean was so chipper mystery. "What have I told you about fibbing to me boy?" Normally this phrase would have given Dean pause or at least wiped the smug grin off his face. Not today apparently. "Not fibbing to you sir. No reason. I am just happy to have finished all my tasks for the day."

Grimacing the concerned father reluctantly asked, "What tasks do you have planned for tonight?" John worried about the local girls. Some strange form of telegraph went out when ever the Winchesters where in town, which was often lately. Jim let them use his house as a home base they weren't on the road. The girls showed up like cats in heat. Dean and woman, he couldn't and didn't want to comprehend it.

He was a one woman man. John hadn't so much as kissed another woman since Mary had died never mind slept with. Truth be told he had never kissed or slept with another woman period, only his beautiful Mary. John shuddered to think the number of woman his son had been with even at his not so advanced years.

One day angels willing his first born would find a woman he could give his heart too. The dark haired father knew his son was afraid that what happened to his Dad would happen to him. Dean figured if you don't care, you don't love, you don't love you don't go off the deep end like John had.

May 2, 2001Blue Earth, Minnesota

The older brother got up early in the morning. Well early for most people late for Dean. He was up and running at 5:00am. Still in his hot tamale boxers and black tee shirt he draped the metallic proclamation of Happy Birthday over Sam's bed. John had cracked open the door and watched from the silent safety of the hallway.

Dean looked up from his tacking of the big Happy Birthday billboard to see his father. He smiled at him a true smile nothing held back, love for his brother shining in his eyes. The dad smiled back, eyes sad. When Dean smiled without reservation it was enough to melt the chains John kept around his heart.

After his eldest had secured the larger than life happy birthday sign he held his dad's gaze. Dean's eyes were twinkling a little too bright. Just like the night previous. John watched in fascination as his January born son pulled a feather out of his bag and brushed it over his younger brother's nose. Sam of course reached up and wiped a hand over the assaulted area, then rolled over.

Hours early he had kicked off the sheets, leaving the bottoms of his feet exposed. Dean slowly moved the feather down the pads of his brother's paws. When he could tell Sam was just about to wake he quick like a bunny joined his father in the hallway. Sam sat up and opened his eyes with a start. The exclamation of his brother's name died on his lips when he saw the sign.

Sam turned to Dean who was standing in the dimly light alcove with a sheepish look on his face. He was in the hallway with his father and Jim who had joined the waiting Winchesters. Sam swallowed. "Thanks Dean. You are the bestest brother in the world." The bestest brother swallowed then smiled kindly, "Nothing but the best for my geek boy on his birthday."

January 24, 2005Redwood City, California

Dean bowed his head his heart was near bursting, when he brought it back up; he tackled his brother with a great humph. John watched his boys his trained fighters as they good naturedly rolled around in a mock scrimmage. Energy spent they got up laughing. "You are losing your touch old man I got in an extra hit to the gut," quipped the younger of the two brothers. "I could take you down any day kid, any day." Came the elders reply.

Knowing the banter could go on indefinitely John pulled the dad card. "Excuse me boys, is there anything resembling coffee in this place?" John asked to the room. "Coming right up sir" replied Sam with tentative smile. The itinerating parent knew they were going to have to talk. Sam needed to know John loved him. Sam needed to be able to say he loved John. They couldn't take back the words said in anger, but they could fix the damage the dialogue had caused.

Back to the English accent, "Where are those manners of mine? Please gentleman might I take your coats after the long journey? The retiring room is down the hall to the right, should anyone need to avail themselves." Both his newly arrived family members laughed at this.

"What in the hell did you eat this morning college boy?" Dean looked up at this younger brother. "I tested out the frosting." Was Sam's quick retort his eyes sparkling. He knew the mention of frosting would make Dean happy. Many a time Sam had helped his older relation eat the creamy goodness with a spoon. It was a special cool older brother thing Dean would do when John went out alone on a job. "Frosting, there is frosting, where?" All of a sudden Dean looked nine years old.

"While you boys are discussing the finer points of cake toppings, I think I will avail myself." John told his boys. The avail myself, came in an equally funny English accent. His kids laughed, score one for Dad he thought. "No problem sir." John wished his little one would stop calling him sir. He knew it was Sam wanting John to know he was being respectful. It was just with every sir uttered John's heart fractured a little more.

When the father closed the door to avail himself he heard Sam quietly ask Dean. "What the hell? What happened?" Equally as softly the birthday boy answered, "I don't know Sammy we were on a job in Mill Valley, fun town Mill Valley." Sam raised his eyebrows silently saying 'and.'

"We finished it headed back to the place we were staying. You called with the annual call and boom, my phone gets slammed out of hand." Dean went on in a rare moment sincerity not followed up by humor. "Maybe he just realized how much I missed you. I've told you he is not always…" They must have moved into another room, because John couldn't hear what he wasn't always. He could only imagine the fill in the blank on that one. None of them were very nice.

The father and his turbulent emotions took their time making their way from the bathroom to the kitchen where he could hear his boys talking about Sam's attempt at cooking. To his surprise there were pictures on the wall not just of Dean and Sam but also of the three of them. John stopped in front of the one taken on his oldest ninth birthday.

Little Sammy who was so serious the whole day and John had just given Dean the model Impala. They were all smiling for the camera. Humbled that Sam still cared enough to hang a photo with him in it he moved on and took in other things about the apartment.

A blue and green patchwork throw carefully lay over the back of what had to be the world's most hideous green chair. Leaning in to get a closer look John noticed that it was a quilt made of shirts they had all worn. Rags for working on the car or cleaning weapons he had told his keeper of the house. Food, laundry and supplies, he was in charge of things of that nature. Oh Dean his little domestic.

Mary used to make quilts out of his old flannel shirts, she told him they still held his warmth and if you wrapped the quilt around you tight you could feel the safety his arms offered. She would have little Dean assist with quilting projects he would stitch the small pieces together.

Other things jumped out at John, framed artwork in Sam's office depicting places they had been. Including and this made him laugh out loud Hardesty, Oklahoma. It was an eight by ten of the Lake Schultz State Park. Sam apparently had a little of John's masochistic streak after all. Never forget where you have been.

Also much to his surprise there was a montage of photos from Lawrence. If he wasn't mistaken the first was a picture of Amyx Barber Shop on Mass Street where John took Dean to get his first adult hair cut. The second looked as if it was taken from someone laying beneath the tree in their front yard.

The third was of the Lawrence County Courthouse. His mind traveled again. He could still see Mary as she bounced out of the doors. Sun framed her smiling face, her white dress blowing in the morning breeze. "You look like an angel Mrs. Winchester…" An angel, John shook his head.

No doubt in his mind these were from Dean. How many times had heard his older son tell his younger you have to know where you come from?' Sammy valued their family history it meant something to him. John also noticed there were clean rugs on the floor and matching curtains over the windows. The place felt lived in. Sam might have made it this way, but it was his older sibling's influence that got him there.

By the time he made it to the kitchen the boys had mugs in their hands. One with coffee and one with hot chocolate; it would be a rare day when his eldest drank coffee and his birthday wasn't going to be it. Sam handed him a mug. "Boston roast sir black and hot."

"Samuel." His baby's face dropped. The use of Samuel in the past never boded well for the kid. John's throat tightened as he watched Sam fight tears. His young twenty one year old didn't argue or fight he just said rather resigned, "yes sir." John didn't miss the protective stance Dean fell into. He would take on his Dad birthday or not. This was Sammy after all.

Inhaling what he hoped to be a steadying breath John replied, "Sammy, please son call me Dad." As he said this he brought his hand to rest tenderly on Sam's check. The same one he had viciously punched years earlier. Poor kids eyes leaked a little of the water he had been holding back, Sam just brought a hand up to his eyes and wiped. He didn't seem to care that both John and Dean had watched him loose his battle with the waterworks. Dean relaxed his battle stance.

Sam's lips curved up when he spoke next. "Yes Dad, as I was saying Boston roast." John thought Sammy smiling at him was the greatest gift his baby could bestow. At least the kid understood the need for battery acid and at that it was a heavenly Boston roast. John took a long drink. "Sammy, you make a fine cup of coffee my boy." Father and son shared a fellow coffee addict's smile. "Ugh." Was Dean's only thought on the subject.

The tension in Sam's shoulders eased a slight bit after he was able to call his dad, Dad. He even went on to grin a little more when he continued talking. "Am sure you two are starved after your job this morning. So, if you will take a seat I will bring out lunch." Sam said this without any 'can't believe you went on another fucking hunt' in his voice. John inclined his head, thinking this was a day for the Winchester history books indeed. Dean smiled at his Dad thinking the same thing.

"Sam, I am impressed. You even cut the chives." Dean chuckled as he said this. John let himself be happy as he watched his boys bicker back and forth. "You always said chives were the green bread crumbs that lead you to the rest of the meal." Sam smiled at his brother. Dean laughed when he retorted "dude sometimes that was the only way to get you to eat. Couldn't have you starving and all. How else would you grow up to be big," they both finished "and tall."

February 21, 1988Grand Forks, North Dakota

"Sammy you have to eat," practically begged a ten year old Dean. He was at his wits end with the five year old. "Why?" Needled the little one. Dean clamped his mouth shut. Why was Sammy's new word. Normally he had the patience of Job with his little rug rat of a brother. But he was still recovering from a rather severe bought of flu and it was colder than an igloo in the half star motel room.

"Because it will help you grow up big, strong and tall. You want that don't you?" Dean was trying. "Humph." Was the only reply Sam offered. That and the relentless tapping of his padded pajama bottom foot. It was the first time in a long time the older brother weighed the options of choking his little brother. Instead of squeezing his impertinent throat till his little eyes popped off like that famous bear he changed tactics.

"What have I told you about following the green bread crumbs?" The heckler answered by route. "They lead you to the rest of the meal." "And?" Dean asked with a slight cough. "And desert." Sammy's brown green eyes looked up at his big brother his face breaking into a knowing smile. "Vanilla?" He asked with a bit of maybe I could be talked into eating in his voice. "Yup." Was the raspy answer of the trying not to fall asleep on his feet protector of said padded pajama bottom children named Samuel John Winchester.

"Okay, I'll eat. What about you Dean? Don't you want to grow up to be bigger and stronger and taller than you are?" Sammy quizzed his brother. He figured if it was important for him, than it must be for Dean as well. "I don't know Sammy my throat still kinda hurts." The not even a month over ten years old also clad in pajama bottom, no padded feet explained. Sam put his little hand on Dean's slightly bigger one, "You could have my smashed potatoes they just slide down. I can put more butter on em to make em softer." Dean tussled his brother's mind of his own hair. "It's a deal Sammy."

January 24, 2005Redwood City, California

"What do you think of the meatloaf?" Sam asked Dean. John could tell that even though he was trying to hide it in male bravado he cared what his brother thought. "Nutmeg was a nice choice of spices geek boy, I might make a Betty Crocker out of you yet."

The person who had spent the better part of the morning slaving over a hot stove rejoined, "Yet? Dude do you have any idea how long it took me to smash the potatoes?" The older brother chuckled. He did in fact know how long it took. "These are real spuds, no out of the box shit on your birthday." The amused father cocked an eyebrow at the language. "Sorry s – Dad." John just smiled. This felt normal.

"Dean, wait till you see the cake!" Sam said as giddy as a kid at a carnival with two or three rolls of cotton candy under his belt. "Sammy you didn't have to make me a cake." A moderately embarrassed Dean said. "To hell I didn't." Was his geek boy brother's riposte. The gladdened dad didn't even raise an eyebrow just reached over and squeezed his son's shoulder. Sam looked up at his Dad and nodded. Without Dean they would both be dead.

When the Winchesters were done with the hearty meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes with chives and steamed green beans, not from a can. Sam cleared the table not letting his somniferous family help one bit. The he brought out the sugary confection complete with candles, big chunky number ones with cars on them and all.

John watched the emotions working there way across on his normally rock solid now turbulent older son's face. To everyone's shock a lone tear escaped and ran a path down the still slightly dirty cheek of the birthday kid. Super Sam to the rescue, he saw it to and quickly covered for Dean by singing loud and off key. John silently chuckled to himself. It was usually the opposite the big little one covering for the little big one.

"Dean, you have no idea! It comes in an already mixed box. I went to the store and there on the top shelf – you know the one I can reach, was a Jell-O Oreo cake mix box. You pour the contents in a bowl mix in extra Oreos. Double stuff of course nothing but the best for the bestest brother in the world on his birthday and voila. Sam is cool brother extraordinaire." The cool brother told his family with a flamboyant flourish of his hand. The bestest brother in the world grabbed his cool brother extraordinaire in a chokehold and just held him for a second. "Sammy, you totally are geek boy."

Each of the rifle name bearing men had larger than life slices of the famed Oreo cake. A cake they all soon realized was sweet enough to send them all to the moon first class round trip. Dean laughed when he asked his cool brother extraordinaire just how many double stuff Oreo's he put in the cake. A bit chagrined Sam answered a whole bag. John laughed, "I knew it."

After lunch and desert Sam gave them the grand tour. Oh he knew Dean had been there before, but he had made changes and wanted his father to be included in this part of his life. 'Please call me dad.' Maybe just maybe Sam thought they could and would reach an accord. Especially since his father seemed to be enjoying the family day. John looked over to see Dean beaming with no small amount of pride. Sam was theirs, the both raised him, and influences from both were evident in his everyday life. Not that Sam would admit that without a struggle.

Sam switched between the funny English accent and the little French man they had meet at a job in Baton Rouge, which was one of the few hunts Sam still brought up with fondness. John never encouraged making fun of or belittling people. It was one of the few things he would call his boys on the carpet for. But this guy well it was hard not to laugh. He was what the new age kids would call affected.

The university student started with the hall, which housed dozens of family photos. Sam and Dean at various ages, always together. John stopped at the one of his sons hanging their heads off the side of bed upside down. Jim had taken it one day when they were all but snowed in at his house in the North Star State. He told the boys it was laundry day. The wise cracks had finished making the last bed. Then collapsed in a 'fit of exhaustion' if he recalled correctly. The pastor couldn't resist snapping the shot.

By the time the W men made it to the office Dean and John knew they were both, both of them loved. The office housed various reminders of their jobs and travels. Including a board that had at least 50 postcards all over it. His domestic no doubt. John figured if he turned them over there would be notes on all of them. On the stray's desk there was a picture of the boys at three and eight. John remembered that day as if it had been burned into his mind. He had taken the boys swimming in the local pond.

Dean was learning his brother to swim. Little Sammy was never taught things he learned them. Oh Sammy and the phrase Dean was learning me. How many times had the single dad heard the little pain in the bum say it? It got to cold to fast in the spring air. The three year old in his hand me down swim trunks and hand me down shirt couldn't get warm.

Dean didn't panic. No John thought, that was never his style. He proceeded to wrap both their towels around his kid brother. When that still didn't but the kibosh on the shiver and shakes, he ensconced Sammy in his jacket then enclosed him in the tightest embrace possible. John couldn't resist taking a picture of his son's. One of his rare 'normal Dad moments.'

From the den of all things study related they moved onto the bedroom. Not before John's eyes wandered across the antique plate the father had purchased his big little one. They had been grocery shopping normally something Dean did even at a young age, but he had been helping Jim on a project. The father had watched his pip squeak eyeing the window of a second hand shop. When he located the object of his son's gaze he smiled. An antique plate with the letters JDS entwined.

The floppy hair kid was telling his family about the closet door which never closed right. One night apparently it slammed shut. Before he was even conscious of the fact Sam had the shotgun out from underneath the bed and at the ready. Sam would be a Winchester first and everything else second. John and his birthday boy noticed the picture on Sam's nightstand at the same time. Eyebrows raised in a well ain't that just interesting look, they glanced at each other, then Sam.

The younger man had been explaining how he built the nightstands himself in a woodshop class. The professor had a variety of woods available; when the Kansas native discovered that cottonwood was one of the grains it had been a no brainer. After he had sanded and varnished the sturdy tables he set about carving sigils into them.

He was in the middle of quoting his older and wiser brother, "You can never have too much protection." When he stopped realizing his that same sibling and his paternal unit wore matching expressions of what the hell. "What?" Sam questioned them and then watched in fascination as the other two shared a 'look.' "Ain't that just interesting, Sam thought not knowing his family had silently just said something along those same words. Who knew his Dad was capable?

Dean piped up "nothing Sam just admiring your work. Dude, if I'd I known your were this handy I might have given you more tasks to do when we helped Jim redo his kitchen." The woodworker looked at his brother as if he had ten heads, knowing there was more to it. But to John and Dean's surprise Sam, normally known as Sam the inquisitor let it go.

With the tour of the apartment complete and Sam still in genuine good spirits John asked if he would show them the school. The forty nine year old father watched his twenty one year olds expression change. The kid was taken slightly aback, his father whom he hadn't scene in at least to his father's knowledge years wanted to see where his son went to school.

Sam didn't know what to say just nodded in agreement. 'Well ain't that a bitch.' Sam thought. When his Dad cocked his head at him he wondered if he had actually voiced the thought. John chortled. 'No kid you didn't actually voice it.'

The campus tour was a nonstop riot. Sam couldn't stop laughing at his brother checking out all the 'totally hot brainy chicks.' He smiled as his Dad downright ogled all the books that were available. In all his years, not they were many Sam could never remember his Dad checking out a woman. At least not in the sense Dean did. Well he had to admit, no one could 'check out' woman like Dean. It was skill totally unique to his bestest brother.

Wanting to end the guided tour with a bang. The junior, almost senior with all the extra classes he squeezed in, took his nothing scares them cause their bad asses family to see the Flatliner's made it famous Stanford Mausoleum. You could take Sam out of the day to day hunting, but he was and would always be a Winchester. All three W boys had a grand time watching people walk past the stone edifice and scream every time a leaf turned over.

When they returned to the apartment John watched his lanky six foot four son pull his six foot one brother aside making small gestures with his long hands. 'What had Dean feed them to grow them so tall?' At that moment he was overcome with a sense of paternal pride. He had done the best he could do. Both his boys were strong men with good hearts and good hands. Though he could just imagine what Dean would say about the good hands part.

"Hey Sam," John called to his son. "Yeah Dad." Sam said with a smile. "I'm going to pour a cup of Boston Roast. Would you like one?" John said returning the gesture. "Thanks Dad that would be great." Dean looked at this family and frowned. "We should have been coffee bean farmers." He lamented with a smirk. His father and brother in unison replied. "What would you have done?" Dean thought it was wonderful his father and brother together and not fighting.

"Geek boy, I am starting to offend even myself. Would you mind if I use your retiring room to shower?" Sam laughed at his brother's reiteration of his use of the phrase retiring room. "No problem, you were kinda starting to reek." Dean flipped his brother the bird. "Towels are in the…" The bathroom door closed. Sam looked at his father. "Guess he wasn't interested in where the towels were." John nodded with a smile "guess not."

The apprehensive Centropolis man could tell his baby was worried about being alone with his father. He was a little uneasy about it himself. With Dean there to mediate or stand watch, they couldn't do much damage to each other. Alone, alone both Winchester's sipping their respective coffees were exposed.

John used the pair Jim's God gave him. "Sammy I am sorry I punched you the way I did." Sam swallowed reflexively. "Its okay I had it coming Dad. Lets face it I was way out of line and considering you were mighty restrained." John raised his eyebrows at his son's admission and at the double entendre of the word mighty.

He remembered with a far away look in his eye when Mary told him they were going to have Sam. John took it stride no walking out on his wife this time. He just put a hand on her stomach that moved slightly lower, a waggle of his eyebrow's, and a "we did well."

"Okay you did have the smack coming. But telling you weren't a welcome part of the family. Oh God kid, nothing could be farther from the truth. I constantly worry about you. Is he sick? He always gets bouts of hay fever in the fall." Sam listened intently to John's words they were a balm to the ache in his rapidly beating heart.

The father kept going. "When you were injured in your chemistry class and the school called Dean. My heart stopped beating for what seemed an eternity when your brother told me he had to get to California pronto you were in the hospital."

John watched his youngest pull a move that his oldest had perfected. He slide his hands into his pockets and folded his shoulders inward. "And the reaper Sammy you have to know I would march him into hell before I let him take you." Coughing to clear his suddenly constrained throat Sam replied in earnest. "I do know Dad. I do."

Sam opened and closed his mouth trying to form words. John didn't push him, just waited. When his cargo pants clad kid did he wasn't disappointed. "Dad. Not one day has gone by that you and Dean haven't been at the forefront of my mind. Your safety, are they injured? Or your well being I know Dad gets nosebleeds with high altitudes. I might have said I didn't want to darken your path with my shadow, but many a night I wished you'd darken mine. There were even moments I could swear you were there behind me."

John looked a little past his son's shoulder. Silently responding to the statement. 'There were moments when I was behind you.' "At the strangest times, probably when I needed you most I would hear your voice in my ear, clear as day. So audible I would turn around just to see if you were there. Hoped you were there…" Sam voice trailed off. John reached over and pulled his son into a tight embrace. "Sammy I love you, I do. Please know that." "I know Dad, I love you too."

From behind the refuge of the bathroom door Dean felt the tension in his body easing. His brother and father made peace with each other. He could think of no greater birthday gift. All though that shower was looking so tempting that it was a close second. The twenty six year old stripped down and hopped in. The water was hot and pelting. Dean reached down for the soap and realized that there were two, one of which smelled faintly of sweet pea. Had being out here in the land of fairies turned his brother into a fruiter or was his boy getting some? Interesting…

Dean exited the bathroom feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. And for the first time in a very long time relaxed. "Did you boys miss me?" Dean questioned his family with outstretched arms. They were sitting in the living room, Sam in that hideous green chair. His Dad on the couch, which somewhat matched the chair.

Dean didn't know if Sam had done that on purpose or Redwood City had an over abundance of hideous green furniture. John groaned at his hazel eyed sons theatrics. He stood up and headed for the kitchen mumbling something about needing battery acid. Dean sat down on the couch his father had just vacated.

A few minutes later he exited said room. Three mugs in hand, two coffees and a hot cocoa. Once the men took sips of their respective beverages, they all let out identical contented sighs. John was the first to muse, "Some things just run in the family." His boys cracked up and every one sitting on the hideous green furnishing had a good laugh.

Then out of nowhere Sam popped up. "Dean your present." The birthday kid put a staying hand up. "Seeing you was present enough Sam." John could tell Dean was happy his brother remembered a present, but would have been just as content if spending a nice day together was it.

"No that was Dad's present. This was the one I was going to send." With that Sam disappeared down the hall. The soon to be present recipient looked at his Dad as if to ask him. John shook his head. He had no clue and learned to stop asking years ago. His boys never failed to surprise him.

Sam came back with a box maybe a little bigger than a shoebox. Dean looked at it, and bless the poor kid's heart, he was embarrassed. Taking it from his brother, his said "thanks Sam" then made no move to open it. The brown floppy haired Winchester who tried so hard to make it a good celebration day for his brother suddenly looked four.

In a small voice the taller of the two asked. "Aren't you going to open it?" Dean laughed at the look on his brother's face. "Okay Sammy okay." Dean said as he pulled his knife out. "Anything I should worry about Dad seeing?" Dean looked pointedly from his father to brother as he said this. John raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Sam could be quite creative when given the chance Dad."

Sam and Dean laughed sharing another one of their many private jokes. "No old man, I think you are safe." The last time Sam had sent him an inflated banana man and banana flavored condoms. With the kids confirmation all was okay Dean carefully cut the mailing box open not wanting to damage whatever his sibling had placed inside.

He pulled a wrapped shoebox size box out and glanced at his brother eyes full of swirling emotion. Sam reminded him, "You always told me wrapping was the most important part." This was true the father listening thought. He had heard dirty blond say this many a time. John watched as his oldest chucked his youngest under the chin. Thinking it had to be unconscious on Dean's part. Sam just smiled indulgently at his brother.

After opening that box the newly showered and changed Winchester discovered there were several small things, again wrapped. It was after all, the most important part. Dean left the square looking one till the end. John figured by the look his eldest gave it, he must know what was inside it and it must be very special.

A new sleeve for his knife, to replace the beat up one he had. Which made the dad smile the beat up one had been a gift from Sam ten years ago. John had taken the eleven year old to get it. Two tee shirts, one stating the wearer was a Chick Magnet, the other Live Free or Die Trying.

A new mixed tape, of course. John had to laugh at that. Dean had dozens of mixed tapes from Sam. A small photo album with updated photos of Sam in them as well as some postcards. Ah, so this is where/how Dean always had updated photos of Sam on his visor. He never asked just made sure he looked whenever he was in the Impala.

With the square present Dean took his time opening it. The corners of his mouth curved upward into a genuine smile. John was more than curious by this time. Dean looked at Sam. Sam looked at Dean. Alas, silent brother communication in action. 'Ah hah' he thought, he was lucky enough to witness the unique phenomenon before the day was out.

Slowly and with no small amount of reverence the kid took out what looked to be a book. His grin grew wider as he flipped through it his face was open. You could see everything he was feeling as he read. The whole time his now clean hand was covering the front. John was really interested now; it was a rare day when Dean's expression was unguarded.

Just then Dean looked up to see his father studying him with great care. He gently handed the book to his father. John didn't miss the gently part. With a heavy heart John studied the bound work. The Adventures of Amos and Craven, Volume 17. John went on to read the book cover to cover. It was when he closed the book and looked at sons, his great warriors he realized just how close they were. They both loved each other deeply and without reservation. Not that either would admit it verbally. Well Sam might. Maybe.

These books must be what Dean keeps in the rosewood box in the trunk of his beloved car. He is extremely protective of the small wooden chest always keeps it safe and hidden under his weapons collection. The weather beaten father remembered when he gave it to his son. "Everyone needs a safe place to store their memories." Would that he knew. Dean had discovered his private box one day and well...

John laughed when he looked up at his boys. Sam would be Amos the scarecrow and Dean would be Craven the sage raven. How many Amos and Craven stories had he heard? He didn't even want to contemplate. Infinity seemed like a small number compared to what the real number must be.

This was his little one's way of letting his older brother know how much he loved him, while maintaining the all important male pride. "Volume 17?" John questioned out load. "Sam has made me one every year since my ninth birthday." Dean answered while looking at his hands as if suddenly very interested in them. They all remembered that week.

"Sam you are a wonderful artist. The detail in the drawings." John stopped when Dean abruptly stood up. "To much cocoa gotta take a leak, be right back." Dean walked down the hall as fast as he could with out looking like he was fleeing the scene of a crime. He heard his Dad continue. "The detail in the drawings, Sam I think you might have missed your calling."

Still looking down the hall where his brother disappeared. "Thanks Dad." Dean could hear the concern for him in his family member's voices as he splashed water over his face. "Dad?" Sam pointed towards the water closet. John ran a hand over his face. "He will be okay. I think he is just a little o d on displays of affection."

Sam nodded he understood. "The nice lady at the antique store put extra bags in to protect the model. When you took the car out and wrapped it in the shirt. I sneaked the bags out of the trash. I knew it would still be a while before Dean could do a lot of moving." John watched as his son tucked a stray hair behind his ear. The fact that Sam's voice dropped as he said do a lot of moving wasn't lost on him. That week still haunted them all.

His brown green eyed child continued the eyes back at the event. "He always told me Amos and Craven stories when I was down. Thought I would repay the favor. After that it sorta became a tradition. And don't ever tell Mr. Tough Guy this, but I wanted him to know I loved him." Sam stopped.

"I know Sammy, I do know." The hunter currently seeking asylum in the bathroom said to the closed door. Dean heard a cup move, those two and their coffee. God help him if Starbucks went belly up. Schooling his emotions he prepared to head out to his family.

January 24, 1988Chadron, Nebraska

Current day Sam continued "After you tucked us in that night, I took the book from underneath my mattress and slunk over to Dean." The four year old tyke asked "Dean are you awake?" The older brother heard the determination in his little ones voice. He knew that catch feigning sleep would get him nowhere. "Yeah, Sammy. What wrong?" The exhausted nine year old asked.

"I have a present for you." Dean opened his eyes and looked at his sweatpants wearing kid brother. The present day Sam told his parent how serious his four year old self was. "Sammy, you gave me a present. It was totally cool." John laughed at Sam's impression of his brother and his totally cool phrase.

"I know you are still kinda soar and not feeling so well yet." The birthday boy watched as Sam took a deep breath and went for broke. "And you always tell me their stories when I am not feeling well, so I thought…" The still battered bum owner finished, "you thought you might do the same for me." Dean watched Sammy eyes get big, "Yeah."

January 24, 2005Redwood City, California

Current day Sam chuckled "At this point Dean turned on his side, I think sitting would have taken the rest of his energy. Remember how he sat through diner and the cake?" John remembered well. Dean was sweating by the time it was over. He never let on his discomfort to his brother, who had tried to make it a special day.

"Dean looked at me kindly and I handed him my first attempt at Amos and Craven." Sam smiled. "He told me to crawl up and we would read it together." John reflected, " So that was why I found you to asleep together the next morning." Sam looked past him his eyes were far away in another time and place. "Yeah, we kinda discussed more of their adventures that night.

Dean came back into the kitchen at that moment. His father and brother looked at him. He smirked and went on "yes, boys. I'm back. No, I didn't fall in. And Sammy, I just love those soft towels. Even though I had to search to find them after my shower. Dude the water pressure here rocks." Sam and John laughed. Guess he did want to know the location of the towels after all.

"I'm headed down to the car. Going to get my thermos. Would love to have some of that double hot chocolate to keep me going on the road." Dean turned to his father. "You want me to grab yours? I am sure you would love to have some of that oil swill." John frowned at little as he tossed his keys to his child. "Sure son thanks." Grabbing his box the birthday boy headed out.

Dean rested his head on the hood of his car. He loved his brother and missed him terribly. Not that they would say that when they talked. The Winchester men tried hard to cover their feelings in bravado and sarcastic humor. Part of him didn't want to leave. The other part of him knew he had too.

Opening the car door he sat in the sanctuary of his driver's seat. He reached his ring clad hand over and slipped out the tape in the tape deck, putting his new one in. His brother always found a great selection of classic rocks songs. Dean looked out the window of his baby took a deep relaxing breath. The he grabbed his trusty black thermos and headed to the trunk. Once he opened the hatch that housed all his material possessions. He stored his gifts and grabbed a small white box from underneath his weapons cache.

He opened his fathers Godzilla sized truck reached into grab the carrier of coffee and knocked something off the seat. When he went to pick it up off the floor he realized it was a small box, with his name on it. Not wanting to wait Dean opened it. It was his mother's hairpin welded into a belt buckle.

He thought back to a day when he was three. "Mom why do you have pin with clouds on it?" His mom had answered, "so I can touch the sky when ever I want." He remembering thinking that was totally cool. What he wouldn't give to touch the part of the sky with his mom in it.

Once he had secured both thermoses, the white box and his dad's gift he headed back up to the apartment. His brother and fathers hushed voices behind the opened door stopped him from going right in. "Really Dad?" Sam said with what Dean thought was hope in his voice.

"We don't have to be to Texas until Friday. Your brother and I can make that in two days of hard driving. It's up to you." His father told Sam with what Dean thought was hope in his voice. 'What the fuck?' Dean thought with hope in his heart. "Of course you can stay. I would love to have you guys. Both of you." Wow Sammy didn't even mask the desperation in the word love. Kid was continuing to place nice with his Dad. Wait, did his Dad just ask his brother if they could stay?

Dean went back a few steps and then pounded up the stairs. By the time he pushed through the half open door. John and Sam were sitting across from each other sipping out of their battery acid distilleries. Sam turned and looked at him. A look he reserved for the please don't argue me moments in life. "Dad said he was getting on in years and the days of back to back driving are taking a toll."

At this John walked over and good-naturedly cuffed his son on the back of the head only a small part of him then felt guilty. When the boys sassing hit a certain point John would give them a light smack to the back of the head, as if to say enough. It felt normal. Sam just guffawed and went on talking "I suggested maybe you stay and get a good night of sleep under your belts before you next job. Then leave tomorrow after lunch. That way you will miss commuter traffic. What do you think?"

Dean thought it sounded like heaven, his family in one place for more than an hour… "Well hell Sammy if the old man need to rest his weary bones who am I to say no." Just a soon as he got the words out, Dean received a matching cuff to the back of the head. The birthday boy thought it was the best gift in the world. The three of them shared a real old fashion family moment.

After the decision to stay was made, sleeping arrangements came next. Due to his advancing years, a phrase which earned to more two more whacks to the back of the noggin, it was agreed upon that John get to have the pull out bed in the couch. The boys would share Sam's bed. It wasn't the first time they had shared a place to lay their heads and somehow they knew it wouldn't be the last.

The father who realized he was starting to smell like a fermenting onion headed down the hall to shower, brush his teeth and check out the soft towels. Walking past the bedroom door John couldn't help but ease drop on his boys.

"Do you think he is dying?" He heard his younger one ask. John shook his head at the question and bit his lip to keep from laughing at the response. "Hell no he ain't dying. I tell you when it is Dad's time he will be old as fucking…" "You said a bad word." Sam couldn't help reminding Dean. It was something Sam said to his older brother far to often when they were little.

Dean's wordless reply didn't leave anything to the imagination. "…he will be as old as dirt, okay geek boy. And it will be nowhere near the horrible, vomit inducing green chair. No are Dad will go out in style or at least happy." His boys chuckled.

"I think Dad misses us" John didn't miss Dean's emphasis on the word us, "as much as we do. The good parts and you know there were good parts Sammy." The father hung his head at the thinly concealed desperation in the boy's voice. "Yeah Dean I know. Please don't think I have forgotten. Images fly through my head at the oddest of times. You learning me how to make snow angels." John's lips broke into a grin at the learning me phrase. There was a peace about it. "Dad teaching me how to skip rocks on the water."

"Then there are days when I am sitting in class and I wonder where you guys are and what you are doing?" Dean continued for his brother. "And if we are safe." "No," Sam said. "Well, yes of course. But I wonder if you need help or if it wouldn't have been better if I stayed." John could not believe his ears. Sam would have never, ever, ever have said this to him. Dean though, he was different. Sam could tell him anything, that's what bestest brothers were for.

Smack. Did his peacekeeper son just hit the other one? The one he would go out of his was to take a punishment for. "Did you just hit me? Why does everyone hit me? What the fuck?" Sam said all in one pensive breath. Dean's response had him back to biting his lip. "First geek boy, you said a bad word. Jim would have washed my mouth out with soap for that." Sam quickly retorted. "Fat lot a good it did." Dean response was just as quick. "Yeah dude, but it worked on you." A snort was the only joiner to that.

"Second, yes Sammy I did hit you and I will keep hitting you until you stop that stupid talk. You know there are times you really do have sh- crap for brains." Not that either could see other but both Sam and John smiled at Dean making a conscious effort not to curse.

"Three we hit you because when everything else fails the last resort in an intervention is to try and smack some sense into the person. You my boy never do things the easy way, hence the smack. For all your arguing you and Dad are alike. Obstinate, stubborn and unwilling to compromise. Do you have any idea how hard you two are to live with sometimes?" The father swallowed his shame. His poor boy, what kind of life had he provided Dean?

Before Sam could get a word in his steam rolling brother kept going. "Don't you ever and I mean ever let me hear you talk like that again Sammy. Ever do you hear me?" The college student with the flaming red check, well two flaming red, one with a bruise starting to form just nodded. He knew better at this point than to try and verbalize. "How many times do I have to tell you? You have to live your life. If being geek boy is it, then that's what you do. I sacrificed more than you will ever know to get you here. Don't you dare make that in vain."

John's hands were shaking. His little centurion, his fighter and the glue that held the family together was hurting. Spouting off like that was his way of showing it. Looking at the door knowing he shouldn't be listening and doing it anyhow he waited for them to continue. Sam said in voice full of unshed tears "I'm sorry Dean I am. I just, it's just that…" Sam tried to say.

"What?" Was his brother's surly reply. "Fuck Dean." Sam stopped, "You can get the soap after I am done." John expelled a breath he was unaware he had been holding. A strangled chuckled mingled with the rush of air. Dean was quick to crack back. "Dude you know a second offense means a turn over someone's knee."

If John had been able to see his life is best spent on the road tee shirt wearer he would have scene the humor in his eyes. The tree of life long sleeve shirt owner sighed. "Dude, it didn't work for you." Laughing the joshing continued. "Worked for you though didn't it. You thought you could be Mr. Tough Guy like me." Sam's response was enough to send water from his father's eyes. "I was only trying to keep the attention off you. You were still so sick from inhaling the stuff from the phantasmal. I thought you were going to die."

Dean swallowed. "Sammy I knew what I was doing. You know how Dad got then with those types of situations. I was trying to keep his attention off of you. Because you bone head have never as evidenced earlier learned the fine art of knowing when to stop." The taller of the two stretched his neck to one side then the other trying to find a way to finish what he was originally trying to say.

"As I was attempting to get out, it's just that sometimes I miss you. Really miss you. And Dad. Alright. And I love you. I know, Sammy why did you have to go and say that…" John ran a hand over his face. "  
Because bone head I do and I wanted you to know even if you never want to hear it." The or say it was left unspoken.

When the put in his place twenty six year old spoke next, John didn't know who was more shocked Sam, Dean, or their Dad. Gone was the jackass. If John had been able to see through doors he would have scene Dean bring an unsteady hand to Sam's cheek, the one he just hit, as he talked.

"I love you to geek boy, I love you too. Am sorry I lost my temper. Forgive me?" It took the twenty one year old a second to respond. His brother voiced the words I love you. Not that Sam ever doubted that, he didn't not for one second.

"Yeah, yeah. How can I not?" Sam said in a small voice. "Sammy, I am serious. Though mom and the angels know this is getting way to chick flick for me." "Dude, were cool." Sam replied to his brother's admission. "Now, Sam are you going to open the box or leave it there? It took painstaking efforts to keep it from Dad." John looked up to the heavens. Oh hell. Did he want to know? Mary help him he did.

"Oh Dean wow I don't know what to say." Sam said. John did. What, what was it he didn't know what to say about? Tears continued to flow down his cheeks as heard the rest of the conversation. "Will you read them to me like you used too?" Asked Sam to his brother the bestest brother in the world. "Yeah Sammy, I will. Come on get comfortable." Dean said with an exasperated sigh.

The man on the other side of the door knew the admission wasn't easy for his eldest. He was trying to regain his coolness factor he had a reputation to maintain. That and he had to calm the storm of feelings raging through him. "The Continuing Adventures of Amos the Scarecrow and Craven the Raven, by Dean C. Winchester." John bowed his head in disgrace. His boys, them against the world.

January 25, 2005Redwood City, California

John woke up about 4:00am, normally both he and the smart ass in the other room would be up beverages in hand. Not a peep of sound could be heard, if he had to guess the boys stayed up hours after he went to bed. Dean felt safe with his brother next to him, so he let himself sleep. Good for him, he needed it.

The father however wasn't so lucky. He couldn't sleep, which happened sometimes. Instinctively, he checked on his sons. No matter how old they got, they would still be his. Dean had an arm around Sam, who leaned in his brother's embrace, just like when they were kids. The proud father smiled at his boys as he ever so quietly closed the door.

About 7:00am stirring sounds could be heard from the bedroom. John smiled as he heard the boys wake up and start bantering. By half past the three Winchester men were seated again at the table. Dean the domestic made everyone oatmeal with cinnamon and honey. He also toasted the wheat bread he found in the fridge and spread generous helping of the peach marmalade he spied on the bottom shelf. The meal was like something out of a fairy tale. At least a fairy tale by Winchester standards.

No fighting, well all in good fun bickering between the boys. But no real disagreements. Sam listened about his families latest jobs without smart ass 'fucking jobs' comments. Dean and John listened about school, Sam was almost done. He had doubled and tripled classes. And to the Dean's horror taken classes during the summer. Sam also took the plunge and let them in on the pretty little blond they had scene in the photo on Sam's nightstand.

Her name was Jessica. She and Sam had meet when the pre law major had been walking past the mausoleum. Which he had admitted he did often because in his warped mind it keep him close to them. It was a little late at night and she had been there on a dare from some girl friends. The effervescent pre med major had to stand outside for five minutes. Three into the five a wild cat went streaking past and she shrieked. Sam went into instant attack mode and sought out the damsel in distress.

He laughed as he told his Dad and brother. "You guys should have been there, I had my knife out in two seconds. Was in front of her trembling body in four. You would have been laughing your asses off. Superman Sam to the rescue." They laughed their asses off listening to him. "Anyhow, I rescued her from the ferocious cat and asked her if she wanted to come back for a cup of coffee." Sam stopped for a sip of said liquid. Dean took opportunity of the break to say. "That's my boy." Sam punched his dirty mind sibling in the arm.

"Speaking of Superman, when Jess saw your picture in the hall, you know the one Jim took of us on the cliff." The toast maker did know the one. She remarked on how you looked like some actor on Smallville, the television show about a young Clark Kent. Though she did comment the star was better looking." Sam smirked at his brother.

Attacking Dean's looks was a sure fire way to get a rise out of him. Knowing this the coffee drinker made sure to pat the cocoa drinker on the back in consolatory manner. Dean straighten in his chair. "I'm a handsome devil with real skills. He's just a pretty boy in makeup." Was the matter of fact response to the assault on his male physic.

He wasn't finished though the blow to his pride had to be vindicated. "Besides I have watched enough of the episodes to know the guy was a whack job. First off who wears Dockers and thinks they make him look good?" The coffee drinkers laughed hard.

"Second, who flies across the world, spends months with a chick like that and doesn't bang her." Sam put a hand over his mouth to stifle the chuckle. His Dad gave him an eyebrow. "Seriously Dad, okay maybe I should say didn't make love to her. But still." John raised his eyes to the ceiling.

"Third, why didn't he just cap them in the cabin. The Luthor's were bad and evil. The fact that he was not such a nice guy should have made it easier. Fourth, if you are going to wield a shotgun like he did and beat up on people who have only ever been nice to you, you deserve to die by flaming meteor." Dean nodded his head as family to let them know he was finished and then he took a good swing of his hot chocolate. Sam and John both patted him on the back.

The interested parent wanted to know more about the girl. "Dean now that you are done defending your bruised ego do you think Sammy can finish telling us about his girlfriend?" The classic rock aficionado held his mug up to Sam. "You have the floor geek boy." The gangly though strong Winchester cleared his throat. "Thank you."

Sam went on to tell them how she baked him cookies. She had wheedled the fact that peanut butter raisin was his favorite out of him. Jess made him two dozen and a pot of Northwestern Blend coffee. "I can see why you like her, she has good taste in coffee." John commented to his son. "Tell me about it, she is smart, funny and a coffee coinsurer." Sam said with a sigh. "What more could a man want?" The older brother asked. "Shut up Dean."

When the time came for Dean and John to hit the road no one wanted to move. It was Dean who made everyone feel better about it. It was always Dean. "Now geek boy, I know you are going to miss us. But don't cry. Your personal baker and coffee brewer will be back from her parents tomorrow. You won't even remember sharing your bed with me."

The fall of his youngest head was enough a reaction for all to know that he would rather have Dean there, at least for the time being. John watched the brothers embrace and share some private comments. When they were done the older one gave the younger one a hearty smack to the back.

Sam laughed and said something. Dean laughed back, opened the door to his trusty Impala. He pulled out away from the curve, "headed to the fill up station Dad, will wait for you there." The he honked his horn and waved at his cool brother extraordinaire. Sam waved back and turned to his father.

"Dad," his son's voice was pensive. "Sam," his resolve was forming. Poor kid, he didn't know what to do. John just grabbed his son and pulled him into a hug. "I love you Sammy. Don't always show it, but I do. I am proud of you. Please don't ever think that I'm not." The father knew you build them up then you tear them down.

"Even though sometimes I am a pigheaded royal pain in this ass? Seriously Dad, thank you. I love you too." Sam said looking his parent in the eye. John cupped the back of his son's neck. "Not a bad impression of me, though next time remember, you have to increase in volume when you are saying it."

"Do you guys need help on this one? Dean said it was going to require some on site research. I could miss a little school and make it up easy." Hating himself for what would come next and knowing he had to see it through John took a deep breath.

"Sam don't think because your brother and I spent the last twenty four or so hours with you that everything has changed. You made your choice son school over hunting. You can't go back, I don't want you back." The father held fast as his baby's eyes grew wide. A direct hit to the battleship had been scored.

"You don't want me back? But you said I would always be a welcomed part of this family." Sam was fighting to maintain his cool. John pushed the envelope. "Family yes Sam. Fighting no. I never want to see you on a job again. You walked away from us, that can't be taken back." His son cracked. "Fine Dad, I thought things had changed, I can painfully see that they haven't. You really don't love me."

John couldn't and wouldn't leave it like that. Griping his youngest by the shoulders he applied enough pressure to make sure he and Sam were eye to eye. Not enough Sam couldn't extricate himself. "Samuel that is not true. I love you." The father made sure to enunciate the last three words. "You broke the trust Sam. Live your life without the hunting, that's what you wanted, now you have it." If there could have been an easier way.

The mist was clouding his boy's brown green windows. "You don't trust me? Do you honestly think I wouldn't fight to the death for you or Dean?" He could see the line his kid was walking and it was fine one. Yeah he did know. "It doesn't matter. It's done Sam. Done." The line snapped. "Fine Sir." 'Sir.' What had he expected? With water drenching his face John watched Sam walk back to his apartment. The father never saw his son look back.

When Sam reached the safe haven of his room he grabbed a cd from his pile and practically threw it in his player. It had been a gift from Dean. **Metallica**, it was one of the few bands the both loved equally. Unbeknownst to the other they would often hum their tunes in stressful situations. Turns out the Winchester Brothers found the sounds of the heavy metal band soothing.

As soon as the song rent the room Sam let it out, all of it. What the fuck had he expected? For his father to change. That would be asking too much. Disposable Heroes great title for a song should have been their theme song, since that's all he and Dean were. Disposable Bodies fill the fields I see hungry heroes end. No one to play soldier now, no one to pretend...

The aggrieved son looked out his window he couldn't see his Dad. Be he knew his wretched father was sitting in the cab of his truck. Sam hadn't heard the rattle of the old girls engine. …Victim of what said should be a servant till I fall…Why didn't he just leave? …Solider boy made of clay. Now an empty shell. Twenty one, only son. But he served us well. Bred to kill, not to care. Just do as we say. Finished here, greeting death. He's yours to take away...

Sam's unleashed the bottled anger inside him he punched the wall as hard as he could. The antique plate his dad purchased him went flying of the shelf. It rolled across the room hitting the side of his nightstand with an echoing thud.

…Life planned out before my birth, nothing could I say. Had no chance to see myself, molded by the day. Looking back I realize, nothing have I done... When the emotionally spent twenty one year old picked the plate up he saw that the trip off its perch has caused it to crack. He thought that was a perfect statement.

If Sam had only known what would happen next. He would have told his father to fuck off and rode shotgun with Dean. ...Left to die with only friend alone…They would be Disposable Heroes together till the end.


	6. Be My Friend

Thank you to the kind souls who took pity upon me and left reviews, even the mean one. Special thanks to Alaina/SVOC Luva who warmed this new writer's soul. Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated. FYI these characters are not mine they belong to the CW. Sigh. Would take John Winchester/Jeffrey Dean Morgan in hot Kansas second if given the chance though. Enjoy the story. Oh yes, warning this chapter does contain violence and slight adult themes.

May 25, 2005Lake Annette, Missouri

Blood, there was so much blood everywhere. It stained his hands, his son and the barn floor. Oh hell, even the hay was drenched with it. John couldn't even recognize the lines that would turn into the tell tale smirk, his consistently twinkling eyes were dim. His body looked as if Dean had gone thirty rounds with a battering ram and lost.

The man who only wanted to save his baby from harm looked at what had brought this carnage about. They were broken open and covered with his brave soldier's hemo. John swallowed the bile forming in his mouth. He thought back to that day so many years ago, when they were saturated with his with wife's blood. Their baby boy keening the cry only a newborn could.

He did this to his boy the person who was his heart and the very essence of his soul. May Mary bestow mercy on the very essence of his soul, his rotting to the core soul. If he could have figured out any other way he would have. "Imp, I am proud to walk beside you and will be honored too for the rest of my days."

The miserable father bit a shaking lip at the recollection. He had meant those words.

Jonathon Dean Winchester just beat the holy hell out of his son. Not a part of his normally a rabble rouser his courageous till the end little one was untouched. Dean looked at him with confusion and pain as he walked out. The twenty six year old was curled in a ball on the dirty hay covered floor. Agony seared John through his disconsolate heart. 'I really am the bastard father I tried so hard not to become.'

He started with a truculent blow to the latissimus dorsi, the father knew if he looked at the kid's hazel eyes, her eyes, for the first hit he wouldn't have been able to go through with it. Dean rocked forward but didn't loose his balance, just turned around fighter's stance at the ready. Then he realized it was his father. "Dad?" He stretched his recently assaulted back and looked at John relaxing his posture. "What the hell Dad, you forget what side I'm on?"

"No son I didn't and you have to believe me when I tell you Dean, if I could have figured out another way..." John stated in a resigned voice, his resolve impenetrable. As soon as the words exited his indurate mouth he threw the hardest punch of his life, at his son, his champion, his rock. The timepiece that the now flying through the air son had given him as birthday present slipped off his wrist. He could just make out the last half of the inscription, Love Dean. He did love Dean, whether or not the boy believed it.

The young man would have marched into the fires of hell and back if his father had asked him. There in lie the problem. John needed to go the rest of this road alone. Telling his obstinate older one this wouldn't have worked. No that wouldn't have been good enough for Dean, the kid would have followed him orders or no. 'You protect your family at all costs,' this had been ingrained into his psyche from that night so long ago as they sat on the Impala watching the flames.

The unrestrained ferocity of the hit set his son flying several feet where he landed with a thud. "Dad?" John could hear the 'why what did I do' in the unsure statement. The one word was laced with so much, the ache of knowing he had failed his father and not knowing how to right the wrong. The merciless parent didn't respond knowing if he did he might back down. Part of him wanted to. John knew he could fix it at this point. The other knew he couldn't, 'start as you mean to go on.'

John fell on top of his first born with all his weight. He continued to punch him over and over. The boxer couldn't even recognize Dean's Winchester chin. His boy's checks were all ready reacting to the blows, swelling and distorting. 'Why won't he defend himself? Oh hell. Please let him throw one back, lash out or anything.' The unwavering abuser prayed.

Dean must have heard his silent plea. He attempted with unsteady arms to block his fathers whaling fists of fury. Not that it did any good. John had commenced upon on his course and intended to finish it. Dean's face was bulging something fierce. Discoloration had set in. One eye was almost swollen shut. The strong Winchester chin was split open. There was a laceration above his other eye exposing raw flesh.

John pushed his knee into his sundering progeny's sternum. This was the action that served to make Dean try in earnest to buck him off. The father nailed him with an elbow to the gut. Then a sharp fist to the groin, the pressure of his father's fast moving right hook was excruciating. The young man's face twisted.

Still the dirty blond was not unaccustomed to fighting through the pain. Dean persisted pushing at him, and got lucky. John wasn't expecting the strength in the pummeled young man's body and was sent rolling back, "Why, Dad? Why?"

Knocking his father off him was the nearly broken body's one burst of brawn. The barbarous man could see his decimated child's energy was tapering out. He could hear it in Dean's enervated voice. While it was normally confident and cocky it was now tired and betrayed.

Seeing he had succeeded in deterring his father's relentless attack or at least earning himself a reprieve Dean rolled shelteringly to his side clutching his ribs, ribs that John heard crack. The man stared at his son's back, his 'a lover and a fighter' tee shirt torn and soaked with sanguine.

With a heavy heart he sent a punch that had it been directed at a cement block would have broken it into pieces. The fist was aimed straight at his son's exposed kidney, knowing this would disable him. John wanted his boy to be out for the rest of what he planned to do. Dean took in a sharp breath, coughed and tried to fight the inevitable blackout. He lost the battle.

With a great amount of care and tenderness John touched his son's battered face his hand sticky and contused. "Dean please forgive me for what I have done and am about to do…" The forty nine year old man's voice broke. "…I love you. You are my rock and my salvation. I have to save you." John reached down and kissed his son's damaged forehead. Then he meted out the final hostilities, tears streaming down his battle scared face the entire time.

As he opened the door to the now apparition free barn they were in Dean's eyelids fluttered upward confusion and pain stared John straight in the face. Hazel windows to the soul were open and fixed on him, the gaze glassed over and yet unwavering. Fighting the urge to shutter at the exposed emotions raging forth from his baby, the former Marine turned and without another glance left.

Left his son, maimed his lifeblood oozing out of him. When the opprobriumed father secured the tattered wooden barrier between Dean and himself he rested his head. He had to get his breathing under control before he made the call. An image of that porcelain angel that Mary kept in the nursery flashed through his mind.

He remembered saying to her "What father wouldn't want an angel to watch over his boys?" The doll had broken before Sam was born. When Mary glued it back together, she told him, "Not all Angels have perfect halos." The Angel he was sending Dean halo was as close as it was gonna get. She had a smart mouth just like his, grit and that same iron mettle the kid was blessed with. She would fight to the death for his son. Of this John had no doubt. Mary help him when Dean woke up, because he had a feeling it would go both ways.

Dean curled into a protective ball. "Why do all bad things happen to me in a barn?" Not that anyone answered him it just felt good to say it out load. The remaining Winchester the one with the unconquerable soul heard the telltale turn over of the trucks engine.

'What he had done to make his father do this? 'I have not winced nor cried aloud, under the bludgeoning chance, my head is bloody but unbowed.' He was a good son, a good solider. Up until this point he fought long and hard, side by side with his Dad. 'Holy fuck his body hurt.' Though he was hard pressed to say it hurt worse than the pain in his heart.

The last thing he remembered before he let the sweet serenity of unconsciousness claim him was humming the song Disposable Heroes by **Metallica** and thinking that is what he had become. It should have been a theme song for the Winchester brothers. …Disposable Bodies fill the fields I see hungry heroes end. No one to play soldier now, no one to pretend... Dean's face was grim as he attempted to move no he couldn't play solider now he couldn't even pretend.

…Victim of what said should be a servant till I fall… Guess I fell the vitiated hunter contemplated. Does that mean I am done now? …Solider boy made of clay. Now an empty shell... He did feel empty inside, so very empty. …But he served us well… He hoped he had. Bred to kill, not to care... He had killed and killed and killed. But he did care Angel's help him he did.

Just do as we say... He had done what his father had said. Always. …Finished here, greeting death. He's yours to take away... 'To the stars through difficulties,' the Kansas native wondered if this counted, maybe he would get to see his mom now.

…Back to the front, you will do what I say, when I say. Back to the front you will die when I say, you must die... Was this his father's way of giving him permission to pass on now? His addled mind traveled back in time. "Sammy please... I need to know you will be okay. You might be all he has left." A younger weakened Dean said.

"Dean you can't die. You are strong fight it. Fight it for me. Please." His little brothers voice horse with tears, imploring him to live. "Sammy I would do anything for you, including fight. My body might not be as strong as my will." His own voice raw with sickness his dimpled check bruised. Matching tears rolled off his chin.

The brothers sniffled. "It has to be." The kid said it with such confidence, they both believed him. There was no Sammy here to tell him to tell him to fight it now. …Back to the front you coward you servant you blind man… He was blind he didn't this coming. But wasn't any coward, no he hadn't winced or cried aloud. If he was going to die he was going to be a man about it.

Why, am I dying? Yes, he was. Kill, I have no fear… He was afraid. Not of the passing on, he had made peace with the after life long ago. No he was afraid of leaving Sammy. Then there would be no one stop his cool brother extraordinaire from becoming like their father.

…Lie, live off lying… That's what the Winchester's did. Hell hell is here... Yes, for him hell was a fucking barn. I was born for dying… His eyes were closing eternal sleep was in his grasp. …Had no chance to see myself, molded by the day. Looking back I realize, nothing have I done... Nothing but be a good son. Haven't I? ...Left to die with only friend alone… Alone, story of his life. Everyone left him in the end. When you are alone the demons come. With that he let the blackness consume him.

May 30, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

Dean was in and out of consciousness for what he thought was hours. When he finally opened his eyes and could focus he realized the following. One he was on a bed a very comfy bed, truth be told. Was that one of those pillow top mattresses? What a great invention this corpulent coffin.

Two his body felt strangely like it was floating and considering the beating he had taken that meant he was on drugs – the good kind. Three the most important, he was companionless, singly, isolated, cloistered, solitary. In other words he was alone. All alone.

What was he to do? Salty liquid traced a bumpy path down his checks; he brought his marred hands to his red rimmed eyes. 'Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the horror of the shade...' He let his hands fall to rest on cotton boxers he didn't remember owning. '...and yet the menace of the years finds, and shall find me, unafraid.' Dean wasn't afraid. He found he was at peace.

Dean attempted to concentrate on his surroundings. It looked as if he was in a cabin. A swank cabin, but a cabin nonetheless. One can only dress a log so many ways. Shifting his weight a little he gingerly moved so that he was sitting up right. No fish swam past his eyes that had to be a good sign.

Moving the notably soft covers he looked down at his ravaged body. Then delicately felt his face. His fingers traced the small stitches that covered various areas on his physiognomy. Who had patched him up? Dean took stock of his person. His body was clean, not a trace of blood to be found.

His ribs were wrapped, expertly. In all his years of fighting his poor ribs were the most assaulted area. Great, at this point he figured there was no solid bone left, just a Jell-o like substance. His right leg was ensconced in an immobilizer.

The urge to find a mirror was great yet equally not so great. The picture wasn't going to be a calm landscape. More like a Kansas tornado. Dean carefully held his bound leg and put his feet on the ground. His hand instinctively went to the night table to steady himself. When his fingers gripped the corner he saw the object he had been contemplating. 'Well wasn't that nice?' Someone read his thoughts. The mirror had a note attached to it. 'Interesting, very, very interesting.'

Dear Mr. Winchester, I know how much you value your looks. Please take heart when you look at your reflection. The stitches shouldn't leave deep scars, what they do leave will only make the ladies think you more sexy. Remember if you drop the mirror it is seven years bad luck. And let's face it you don't need any more bad luck.

Dean let out a half laugh, half groan. A Florence Nightingale with a sense of humor. He gave himself a quick peek. Holy shit, he put the cheval down. He wasn't ready. Next to the small black handled looking glass was a pitcher of water and a cup. The sunflower adorned carafe and matching mug were made out of plastic. Dean figured this way if knocked them over, no glass shards, no more cuts.

Finishing the inventory of the varnished wood surface he noted a bottle of painkillers. Laying next to the senders to la la land were a remote and his rosewood box. 'Wait a minute, his rosewood box.' Each of these items had post it notes attached. _Mr. Winchester, these are high-grade painkillers, please use responsibly._ Who the hell was this person?

_Mr. Winchester, the water is room temperature and not laced with anything._ When he read the note on the box he had to steady his hand. _Mr. Winchester, in light of your recent altercation, I thought (given what I have heard) you might want these to read while you were recuperating. Reading calms the heart and soothes the soul._

_Mr. Winchester, this remote controls the compact disk player on the dresser, I tried to make sure there was a selection you would approve of. Music can often provide us a much needed escape from the outside world._ _Please note, disks are different than the cassette tapes you are used to, if you don't like a song, hit the button that says skip._

Using one hand to steady his unsure legs Dean used the other to pick up the remote. Compact disk player, 'ha I am not that out of touch with current electronic contraptions,' he thought, 'I do know what a cd player is, just never owned one.' Dean clicked the music box on hoping but not really caring if he approved of the options, the silence was deafening.

The halcyon sounds of **Bob Dylan's** Death is Not the End filled the room. …When you're sad and when you're lonely and you haven't got a friend… Friends, who needed friends? They were over rated. Just remember death is not the end. All that you've held sacred, falls down does not mend. Just remember death is not the end… Family, his family was all he held sacred. 'Would it never mend?'

Florence had a unique sense of comfort. In someone ways this did offer him solace. His mother loved the tambourine man. His father would listen to him when he couldn't sleep. It was one of the few good things he passed on to Sam. There were times Mr. Dylan would be the only thing to get an upset Sammy to bed.

…When you're standing at the crossroads that you cannot comprehend… It wouldn't be till much later that he would stand at that crossroads, but stand at it he would. …Just remember death is not the end. And all your dreams have vanished and you don't know what's up the bend. Just remember death is not the end… Dean sighed he didn't even know what his dreams were anymore he had suppressed them for such a long time. As far as what was up the bend, his laugh rang hallow, he would imagine the proverbial paddle his father used to thrash him with.

…When the storm clouds gather 'round you, and heavy rains descend. Just remember death is not the end. And there's no one there to comfort you, with a helpin' hand to lend. Just remember that death is not the end…Alone, the injured man thought. I am all alone, no helping hand in sight. All though he did have to admit who ever his Angel of Mercy was they had tried.

Realizing he wasn't ready to make a go at real moving he poured himself a glass of unlaced water and sat back down on the plushy surface. Following the suggestion of the note on his rosewood box he proceeded to do just that, read a couple of his Amos and Craven stories. As his hazel eyes skimmed the hand written words, he could feel his body relax the tension easing out every so slightly. Whoever this unknown person was, Dean blessed them.

At one point he had to go to the bathroom he couldn't put it off any longer. Remembering the feral blow to his kidney, he didn't even want to think of the pain that was going to cause. Oh and the sucker punch to Mr. Wiggly. He cringed at the thought of Mr. Wiggly trying to wiggle.

Gone was his cavalier attitude of pain, ha I can handle anything. It had been replaced with, fuck it was going to hurt but it has to be done. Not for the first time since the savage pummeling he received did he wonder what the in the hell had happened with his Dad? How had he failed him? 'Get better dumb shit and find out.'

Dean swung his legs off the bed well made a decent attempt anyhow. Why was his leg immobilized? He didn't remember his father doing anything to that particular extremity. Crimney the brace was awkward. His limbs on solid ground he looked at the floor making sure there were no obstacles obstructing his path. On his pass by he spied a pan and of course another note.

Gently and with a smile he bent down grabbed the basin as well as the sticky piece of yellow paper. _Mr. Winchester, in case you had a reaction to the drugs or needed to relieve yourself and couldn't make it._ Dean chuckled, so Florence was a woman. No self respecting man would say relieve yourself. Take a leak maybe, but not relieve yourself. Grimacing, he knew it would be very slow going but he could and would make it to the porcelain god.

Still he sent a silent thanks to who ever his Angel was. Dean pushed himself to a standing position, well teetering unstably. He looked at the table and noticed that to the side of it rested a cane. Angel, you rock like a hurricane. Grabbing the walking aide he looked for a missive. He was not disappointed. _Mr. Winchester, in case you found yourself needing some assistance. Beside chicks dig men with swaggers._ This chick was a laugh a minute.

The limping man was not surprised to find the bathroom stocked and notes aplenty. This girl was nothing if not diligent and funny besides. All though he sincerely wished she would she please stop calling him Mr. Winchester. That was his father or paternal unit. Father made it sound like he gave a damn. No he wasn't Mr. Winchester he was just Dean, Mr. Winchester's bent over a bucket son.

The bathroom mirror held a sign, apparently a post it wasn't good enough. More than likely it was that his Angel wanted him forewarned. The small handheld reflector of images had he really looked at it would not have showed much. This huge ass one, well ain't no missing all his bumps and bruises.

_Mr. Winchester you really don't look so bad. You might even make the cover of the John Deere Catalogue. Be careful brushing, the inside of your mouth is still pretty cut. I would advise against Listerine for a few days. If I can deal with your breath, so can you._

Dean removed the communiqué off the obscenely large glass. Okay maybe it wasn't, he just was more than a little reticent to actually see himself. Then it would all be real. Was that a smiley face? 'Ha.' Putting a hand up to his cracked lips, the man with the swollen mouth breathed. Ugh. He mimicked the note. 'If I can deal with your breath, so can you.' The injured party finished by sticking his tongue out. 'Was that a cut? Was there any part of him that remained unscathed?'

He looked at his face, really studied it. From the neck up he was so discolored that the small patches that weren't looked abnormal. Apprehensively the hunter glanced at the toilet and was relieved to see no notes. At least his Angel left him a small amount of male dignity. Taking a piss didn't hurt nearly as much as he thought. Must be the sweet ass drugs he was on.

Task completed he and his cane went to explore the rest of the cabin. Not that there was that much to investigate which was good because the going was slow. The cabin had a living room with a television that worked, he checked. A fireplace with a healthy supply of logs no more than three high. His Angel apparently didn't want him trying to lift his arms too high too soon. A linen closet with clean linens and a note informing _Mr. Winchester please leave the dirty ones in the clear plastic container. _ Completing his tour was a kitchen.

The fridge held an actual piece of paper not just a post it. A regular size, like they mirror had. _Greetings Mr. Winchester, I do hope this note finds you in better spirits. In the old looking but trusty ice box you will find a compliment of foods. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes (from the potato – no boxed mix),_ to this Dean replied, "Perish the thought."

His throat got tight, Sam had made him real mashed potatoes for his last birthday. "These are real spuds, no out of the box shit on your birthday." Shaking his head to clear the memory he continued reading, _zucchini squash and carrots, all steamed. As well as a generous supply of spilt pea soup, with ham._

How did this chick know him so well? She had prepared his favorite foods. The bathroom was stocked with his brand of toothpaste and shaving cream. Although with that one she informed him _Mr. Winchester, it might be a while before you actually get to use it._ The music was a 'selection he approved of.'

'Focus Dean,' back to the note. _Several peaches and pears all sliced. For your sugar cravings there is Oreo flavored ice cream in the freezer. Go easy on it though. Your jaw might not be ready for the crunching._ 'cluck a duck,' it was that bad. _To drink there is milk, white grape juice and hot cocoa aplenty in the large pot adorned with a sunflower on the counter. No beer for now, you are on to many drugs. Cheers._

Hell fucking hilarious. At least he was bandaged and clean. Okay she had done more. Plush sheets on a heavenly bed, he had never rested his head on anything that nice. The boxers he was currently sporting were softer than any he had ever owned. Meals cooked for him, wow. His bastard of a father only did it when he was real young or sick. Sam had only on special occasions.

Reaching a marred hand to the silver handle Dean opened the ole time fridge to find everything in meal size microwavable Tupperware bowls or plates. 'Nice,' he could get used to this. Food prepared, not having to lift a finger. The devitalized man let out a sad laugh. Who was he kidding? He was the one that normally did these things for others. It felt strange to have someone take care of him. He felt out of place.

Not wanting to temp fate the dirty blond opted for the split pea and some milk. He popped a green Tupperware bowl in the white micro. Then he spent the next two minutes while his soup was heating checking the drawers for contents. Old habits die hard. 'Know your surroundings Dean you never know when it will come in handy.' The wounded warrior leaning on his cane was curious how long he would continue to hear his father's instructions in his vexed head.

With the silverware he found another note in an envelope this time. He was moving up in the world, an envelope. Wowwie, this girl was nothing if not meticulous and apparently never at a loss for something to say. This memorandum however was different from the rest.

First it was sheathed in a protective carrier, second it was formally addressed in big block letters to Dean C. Winchester. The back was adorned with the admonishment _Please don't read until you have eaten_. 'Well hell sweetheart,' it was the least he could do, given everything she had done for him. No one would have known if he didn't but he waited.

Despite what he discovered was an extremely sore and still somewhat swollen mouth; his was still able to enjoy his food. Choosing the green marvel had been the prudent choice, slides down easy and was filled with great flavor. When the isolated man finished his repast he headed back to the kitchen. Without thinking about what he was doing he washed and dried the container putting in the cupboard. Some things were just route. You don't think you do.

The action of moving his arm up almost even with his head caused his body to twinge. Slowly and with great care he rested it on the white tiled counter top. His eyes roamed the area they stopped when they came to thelarge pot adorned with a sunflower. Smiling he did something he hadn't done in ages, made himself a cup of hot chocolate.

With the cocoa delight and letter in one hand, wooden staff in the other. The well feed twenty six year old made his way to the living room. Gradually he lowered his nearly triturated meat suit in to the overstuffed brown leather chair. Dean placed his walking assistant down beside him and took a long drink of the hot chocolate, which to his surprise came with mini marsh mellows. The note in the jar told him, _Mr. Winchester -_ _For your marsh mellow fix, sorry it's not in a chocolate sandwich._

Assuaged and sated he opened the letter. _Dean – By this time you must hate the Mr. Winchester bit. _Dean laughed, 'no shit sweetheart.'_ My employer is a friend of your fathers. Whom at this moment is I am guessing is not your favorite person._ Girl was a mind reader. No his Dad was at the bottom of the list of people he would like to see, despite his not wanting to fly solo.

_Your father asked him for help with this situation (my apologizes, just don't know what else to call it) and you got me._ 'This situation.' Dean figured there were worse people. At least his Angel had taken care of him. _You have been in and out of consciousness for about a week._ 'Holy shit, a week!'

_I arrived at the barn about thirty minutes after your father left. Before you ask, no I did not know what was going to happen. Just to be in the area and await instruction. Exciting place the show me state. _Funny though it was the state motto, not the nickname he couldn't get out of his bruised head. 'The welfare of the people shall be the supreme law.' Guess John Winchester was absent the day they taught that in school.

_When I laid eyes on you, I thought you were dead. But you are a born fighter. When I touched you, you came up swinging. Have the pretty multicolor bruises on my cheek to prove it._ 'Oh hell,' he hit a girl. Never in his life had he hit a girl. The fact that he had made his stomach knot more than it already was. For it to be one that helped him. He sent a silent apology to his Angel

_At which point I gave you a sedative, please forgive me, its just you needed to be calm for the ride and didn't think you wanted to feel every bump._ Forgive her he was gratefulHis mind wandered to Chadron, Nebraska and that bumpy ride back to the place they were staying the week before his ninth birthday. His posterior felt every knock in the road, even though he had to admit, 'that man,' made every effort to avoid them.

_Once you were wrestled inside, you my boy are not a lightweight. I cut your clothes off, sorry they were not going to make it. Great tee shirt too, 'a lover and a fighter.' Was able to save your Caterpillars though and even got 90 percent of the blood. The other ten percent, well they give your boots character and boots need character._ 'Thank you,' they were his favorite shoes, he said with a chuckle at her wit to the piece of paper that had as a background, seriously this was starting to become a pattern, a sunflower.

_Washed you down with bedadine and antiseptic. Can't say you were all that thrilled about the antiseptic part, if I could have figured out another way. _What in the hell was it with that phrase? His Dad, no paternal unit had said those same words, 'figured out another way.' His Angel he could understand, that man, no.

_Had to set your leg, seems your Dad dislocated your kneecap. Judging by the impression of wings on the inside of your limb your father put his Red Wings on your connecting joint and well you get the picture. Dear Sweet Saint Bridget, please know I didn't mean to cause you that kind of pain, but you are big boy, solid big boy. And I am one lone girl. Did the best I could with what I had._ You didn't cause my pain sweetness that man did. Holy shit, that man was angry enough he dislocated his kneecap. Son of – Well that explains the immobilizer. 'Dear Sweet Saint Bridget?'

_At this point would advise against tipping the light fantastic for a while, unless you want to see the lights tipping before your eyes._ Laughing, the six foot one Winchester shifted his body to make it more comfortable. Then he picked up the ceramic mug also adorned with a sunflower, he wondered if everything was themed on purpose, and took another sip. Him tipping the light fantastic, he rarely ever danced. Vertically anyhow.

'Eyes back to the letter.' _Onto your ribs, you will be happy to learn that while you have several cracked ones, none were actually broken in the Great Missouri Barn Incident. Though am sure it still hurts like a bitch. _ His Angel had a wonderful command of the English language. It did hurt like a bitch. 'Great Missouri Barn Incident.' He wondered how many states he could rack up barn incidents in.

That man had a short list of rules that when broken would result in corporal punishment. Don't break them don't get whacked. He told the boys there were other ways of making them fall in line, he didn't like physical reprimanding it made him sick. 'Trust me sir it makes me sick too.' He didn't understand, up until this point that man had only loved him. Oh sure his Dad had smacked him, but only when he deserved it, only when it was really earned. Even then he could count the number of times his Dad really busted his ass. This, what the hell had he done to deserve this?

_Your back had a nail in it, from what I could tell, you feel on it. Was a fun challenge to clean, dress and stitch the open gash. You were leaning against me, have I mentioned you are not a light weight? Anyhow I digress had to sew over you. Made sure to give you a tetanus shot just in case._ Well hell, of course Dean thought as he drained the last of the chocolaty goodness. Didn't surprise him one bit, this chick seemed like the kind of person to make sure he received all his shots. Although she hadn't left him a lollipop, maybe he should file a grievance.

_If you are not sitting for the next part, I might suggest it. My throat was tight as took care of the following in the long list of things your fricking jackass of a father did to your person. Personally I consider them to be the worst. _The worst huh, what did she consider worse than a dislocated kneecap?

_Know that my heart actually breaks to tell you this part. You back has tell tale welts. The other injuries, well okay, well not okay. It's just the welts, Dean I am so very sorry. Did what I could for them._ John Winchester actually beat his twenty six year old son with a belt, what a piece of shit. Guess that is what he thought of his son too.

August 10, 2001Blue Earth, Minnesota

The witching hour had just ended. The moon was high in the sky. Dean always loved looking at the silver sphere. He found that when he did everything else fell away. Hours earlier he and Jim had cleaned up the kitchen. They knew John wouldn't be back for a while. The twenty three year old waited till he figured the Pastor had turned in. Then quietly still clad in his 'Rock Never Dies' tee shirt he slipped out of the house.

Until you've been beside a man you don't know what he wants… Oh Sammy, you sitting next to me would be a start. You don't know if he cries at night... Dean would be hard pressed to admit it, but yeah there were nights he did cry himself to sleep. You don't know if he don't... Sammy knew, just kept it to himself.

When nothing comes easy, old nightmares are real… What if Dad never comes back? He might decide now that the good son is gone he had nothing to return to. Until you have been beside a man you don't know how he feels… Before he could answer the lyrics of Bob Seger's Shame on the Moon in his mind, the person that put them there in the first place called.

The young hunter had been so deep in the thought he jumped when his phone went off. 'Get a grip dude, get a grip.' He said to himself as he retrieved the noisy offender out of his pocket. Flipping open the phone the solitary Winchester on the veranda checked the caller id. He closed his eyes, kid had a sixth sense, he just must.

"Sammy? Dude what in the hell are you calling so late for?" The older brother jived his younger. Then before the officially now a college student could answer the over protective streak in Dean took over. "Are you hurt? Did something happen?" "Dean!" The currently in California brother half yelled. He knew he had to get his big brothers attention, yelling his name had always worked in the past. "What?" Sam smiled to himself when he had succeeded.

"I couldn't sleep." 'Ah' Dean thought, he recognized this particular ploy. He took a calming breath to bring his racing heart back to a normal speed. Couldn't sleep he could deal with. "Couldn't sleep? Geek boy, that bed is a thing of wonder. I would be way into dreamland by now. Shit, I would have a fine piece a…" "Dean, please." Sam sounded worried. Okay the currently in Minnesota brother reflected maybe it was a little worse than he thought.

"Dean please. Please what? You want me to read you a bed time story?" He was monkey shining hoping to extract what ever the conundrum was out of Sam. "Would you if I asked?" It was the desperation in his cool brother extraordinare's voice that got to him. "Don't know depends, can I read one out of Hustler?" Sam sighed. "You are at Jim's you respect him enough not to have any there."

Things weren't to bad if Mr. Detail could still point out the small stuff. Although something was wrong, geek boy was gripping the phone like a lifeline, he could tell. There were times when the shit used the little things as his defense tactic. 'Why can't it be easy?' He questioned the man in the moon.

To Sam, "What's the matter Sammy?" When the young man sitting with his knees to his chest heard the concern, the anxiety in his big brothers voice he went for it. He knew Dean wouldn't crack any jokes, not this time. "I can't sleep. Its dark here." He rested his chin on his jeans covered knees. "I am alone."

'Ah, here it was the real issue.' "Alone ain't so bad. Just think you could flop this way and that. When you snore like a freight train, there won't be a pillow landing on the back of your head to shut you the hell up." Hearing his brother's voice was soothing. His bestest brother always knew the right things to say. The lanky six foot four no longer a hunter inched his way out of the protective half ball he was in. "Yeah, I don't think I would mind a pillow tossed on my head right now."

'Oh Sammy.' "Thump." Dean said as loud as he dared so as not wake Jim. "Ow, what'd you do that for?" Sam fell back into their game. "Because freight train, I would like to get some sleep." The concern in the older sibling's voice was evident, but that didn't make the younger any less appreciative. "So would I." The caretaker spoke to his charge until he could hear the even breathes that meant Sam was asleep. Then before he hung up, "I love you Sammy, don't think for a second I won't come slay the dragons if need be."

After his conversation with the stray out in the land of sun the older brother closed his phone and rested his head against it. When he brought his cranium back up his emotions were back under wraps. Dean rolled his neck hoping to release some of the tension. The exhausted man used his one of his hands to try and work out a knot.

'Fuck,' he thought. In the last twenty four hours there had been entirely too many chick conversations for him. It wasn't over yet either. The front porch steps and the Man in the Moon kept him company in his vigil for his father. It was just past two in the morning when John Winchester and his trusty Chevy pick up pulled down the drive. His dark eyes locked with his son's. Dean didn't turn away he just kept looking at his Dad. They both required something, that unnamed but much talked about 'something.'

The heavy hearted parent parked his beat up vehicle behind the Impala. He took his time exiting. The spent father knew he and the kid were going to have to talk. They were both aching with pain, the kind that couldn't be fixed with a Band Aid. Dean needed it and not that he would admit it but he yearned for it to.

By the time he made it to the front porch he was confident he could make it through the impending conversation without cracking in front of his boy. Emotional displays were not easy for him. Although he tried when the situation called for it. The rag a muffin in front of him could play down his abilities all he wanted, hide behind whatever wall he felt safe. Dean could turn it on and take care of any dilemma making everyone feel better in the process. He got that from his mother and grandfather. The one he hadn't met.

"Dad." His son said with a turn of his head. John swallowed normally Dean was cocky and happy go lucky. Tonight he was serious, all business. No joking in those hazels eyes, her eyes. Being serious and all business was John's job. Dean's was being the stabilizer when everything wasn't as it should be. 'Oh Mary, I have failed this family. Our boys.' "Dean." The exhausted father put a steadying hand on his child's shoulder as he sat next to him.

Once seated on the porch steps, John straightened his coat. It was cold for early August. Winter must be coming early this year. When he rested his hands over his knees he heard a sigh. Then to his shock a dirty blond head came to rest on his shoulder. This was something his son had done all the time when he was little and would sit with John. The father figured tonight if Dean could break from the detached bravado code so could he. He leaned his head on top of Dean's.

They two abandoned Winchesters sat staring at nothing and thinking about everything for quite a while. When Dean spoke John was a little startled. Just like he had that night many many moons ago. "I am ready Dad." The father couldn't stop the nervous laugh that had escaped him. Hazel eyes stared at him. Slowly Dean enunciated the words, watching his father's face. John smiled his progeny was making sure he hadn't cracked. "Dad, are you all right?"

Shaking his head he put an arm around Dean. "Imp, I am sorry I laughed." Dean's throat bobbed at the use of the nickname. The arm around his son tightened. "Do you know you used that same phrase the night of the barn incident?" The hazel eyes looked down suddenly interested in the wood groves of the stairs.

John continued. "Here we were sitting have a man to man discussion. You told me as serious as they come how you had to save me." Without moving his gaze from the steps the young man replied. "I did. You were going anywhere spanking be damned." The kid took a breath. "Sorry sir." The father chuckled. "I'll let it pass." He could see the beginnings of a smile on his boy's face.

"Anyhow, after your declaration I held you tight. My heart was still in flex, all I could think was I could have lost you. My baby." Dean's nose wrinkled at the phrase, but he said nothing. "My mind was still turning over the events of the night and out of no where. I am ready Dad." A chuckle escaped the lips that had recently formed into a thoughtful smile.

Before he lost the nerve the tough on the exterior former Marine continued. "I decided firmly in that moment you were the most valiant person I knew." Before he could stop himself the still tired from driving half way across country twenty three year old said. "But I wasn't even nine." The older man smiled. For all his son's intelligence, his ability to filler life's challenges, there were times when he didn't see the obvious. "Courage has nothing to do with age Dean. It comes from somewhere inside you."

The father watched his son do something he himself did all the time. Run a shaking hand over his face. It was a calming action. "Don't son. There is no reason to be ashamed." He gave the boy's shoulder one more squeeze. "So tell me. What are you ready for?" Genuinely laughing Dean replied, "well not for a turn over your knee." John lips cracked upwards he joined in the mirth with his son.

Taking a deep breath the remaining of his two sons looked at him and smiled. That smile, he knew that smile. Despite what his youngest thought, he did know their tells. Angels above, what had the shit done? John watched in interest as Dean turned and fidgeted with something. When he brought his hands into view the dark haired man smiled. "Coffee?" The flannel clad man reached a hand over taking the mug. "Thank you. I guess you figured I might need a bolster for whatever it was you said.

Lips twitched and eventually turned up into a smile. "Yes sir. That and I thought we might watch the moon go down. You know give ourselves a change from watching the sun come up." John cracked a grin at the relaxation tactic his son was employing. The kid took care of everyone.

"Not that I am big on talking Dad, I just think we need to acknowledge the…" Dean's sigh was so big they both chuckled. "…acknowledge the loss." It was the fathers turn to run a shaking hand over his face. The young man sitting next to him was without a doubt the bravest man he knew.

"I know son, I know. Please don't think that I don't miss or love your brother. I just want him to be safe. Safety is in numbers…" Clearing a suddenly tight throat the remaining son looked at his cup and took a sip. "I know Dad, I know." In some ways they were so alike.

As the parent observed his child he had a thought. "Dean Christopher Winchester?" The person in question steeled his features and brought his face to his father. "Yes sir?" The father put his battery acid down and brought a hand to his progeny's face, without thinking about what he was doing he traced a thumb across the scar under the boy's eye.

"No sir, just Dad." The younger hunter's face relaxed. His poor boy he had been through enough in last few weeks and more than enough in his short life. "It just occurred to me, you are drinking coffee." Laughing Dean answered the statement that was a thinly asked question. "Yes and it tastes horrible. How do you drink this stuff?" In some ways they were so different.

While watching the silver protector of the sky the abandoned men talked about the important things. Words were spoken that had been clawing to get out. Including about that night. "Dean, it might be a little late but I would like to talk about that night." The poor kid looked away. He was still uncomfortable about the whole ordeal.

"Dad, please it was along time ago. It was the first of many times I disappointed you." That was what he thought? Disappointed him? 'Oh Mary, give me the words.' John brought his hands to his son's face holding it so that Dean had to look at him.

"I have never in my life been disappointed in you, especially not that night. It takes an iron fortitude in a man to walk into battle not knowing if he will live or die. Not caring as long as he saves his fellow solider in arms. You have that indomitable strength Dean, you always have. It stuck me how much like me you were, like father like son." Dean's sober features slipped he attempted a little levity. "That's why struck me on my bum?"

A tear escaped John's dark eye. The unexpected action caused concern. The son watched his father's face as another water work leaked out of the other eye. "No, that was a reaction to the terror of seeing my lionhearted still eight year old narrowly escape being speared through the head with a hay pick." John's hands tighten slightly on his son's checks. Dean listened quietly as his father bared parts of his soul. "The point is I love you Dean. I am honored to know you." He let his hands fall. The warriors took long sips out of their liquid dispensers.

"You will never know the pain it caused me to take you outside that night. My stomach was knotted the whole time. My heart was pounding. My feet felt like cement." Trying to give his Dad a breather, neither very comfortable with showing and sharing. Dean cracked a joke, "so did your hand." Instead of a grin or a laugh his father chocked down a sob. Crashed and burned sonny boy, crashed and burned. "Oh Imp. You will never know. Just the fact that you wanted to save me, you loved me enough to..." John looked at his son imploring him to understand.

"When I unbuckled my belt, I wanted to retch right there. I told myself and your mother I would never become my father and in that moment I felt I failed." Dean touched his father's shoulder much the same way the man had his earlier. He did understand, he remembered the one time he meet his grandfather. Evil, that is what the man was. "It's no secret to you how I was raised. You have cleaned enough of my wounds to see the scars."

"Dad you did what you had too." John's face contorted in raw anguish. Dean knew he said the wrong thing. "He used to say that. Just doing what I have to do to make a man out of you. At almost nine you were more a man than anyone I had ever served with." To the surprise of both Winchesters the son reached over and hugged his Dad, tight. "You didn't fail Dad. I didn't disappoint you and you didn't fail." John hugged his first born like he was a lifeline, in fact for the haggard father, he was. "Thank you Dean."

John Winchester had started on his course and intended to finish it. "Imp." He cleared his throat hoping the lump would disappear. "Please know that anytime I had to use force it was to protect you in the end. Not to devitalize you or make you less a man." The son did know. "Dad, please don't think for a minute that I don't love you. You are not grandfather you care and you give a damn. That's why you have done what you have done when you did it." The father laughed. "Come again?"

"Dad please you know I am no good at this chick flick stuff." John smiled, he was a lot better at it than he realized. Dean always knew what to say to make people feel better, even if they didn't always know how to listen. John knew his son's earlier quip was to give him a chance to regain his footing.

"Grandfather was and I know language, a chicken shit. Thank the Angels above you turned out to be nothing like him. You are a strong man, I can think of no one else I admire more. You could have gone off the deep end after mom died and you didn't. You could have turned into that man and ruled with an iron fist, you didn't."

John reached over ruffled the dirty blond hair that was blowing this way and that in the cold air. "Oh Dean, you are…" his voice broke, "Imp, I am proud to walk beside you and will be honored too for the rest of my days."

May 30, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

The recently abused hunter didn't realize his mind had traveled back in time to that night. "Imp, I am proud to walk beside you and will be honored too for the rest of my days." His father had said those words with such conviction he actually believed him. "I am an idiot." The words echoed hallow.

_Then I set about the task of your face. Having had the pleasure of seeing a photographic reproduction of you, I can tell you that even with crap beat out of you, the picture didn't do you justice._ Sweetheart you are to kind by half. _How was that for stroking your male ego? Anyhoo,._ Was that another smiling face? He was handsome damn it all to hell. At least she didn't comment on his likeness to that sissy actor on that Superman show.

_Was as careful and gentle as could be. Your right eye was swollen shut and your left wasn't far behind. You sorta resembled a raccoon. There were sixteen cuts on your face, five of which required stitches. Your jaw… had to make my hand stop shaking before looking in your mouth. Was really afraid you might be missing teeth. Did inspect the barn before we left…_ 'Oh no, his pearly whites?' He hadn't checked. His mouth and jaw were still to soar.

_You denture set is complete. You will be happy to know your thousand watt smile will live to see another day._ Dean laughed out load at that. _Your jaw was almost welded closed. Trying to get fluids in you was a pain in the pursqueeter._ Girlie was using his phrases she was stand up material. _Your fever raged up and down for four days. You were too hot to handle. _Using aclassic rock reference nice.

_In that time I washed you down and cleaned you up to many times to count. Imagine my rubbing the torso of the great Dean Winchester, getting a great many groans out of him. And the man in question not able to remember one bit of it, guess my talents weren't up to your standards. _Sweetheart, you just succeeded in getting another groan out of me. This one you will be happy to know I will remember._ You sweat the fever out and hoarked your guts out all over, me included._ "Sorry Angel. At least you got to massage my chest. That should have been a thrill." He said his trademark smirk firmly in place.

Then Dean thought. It hit him, 'oh fuck, oh double fuck.' The smirk fell. _Was wondering when you would think about that. Am trying to figure out how to put this delicately._ Is there a way he thought? _Had to help you take care of your business. Due to what I am told was a double assault. One to your kidney and an altercation to your gentlemanly parts… _Dean knew he was beyond red at this moment, it wasn't like she was the first girl to see his gentlemanly parts it was just well he was usually gentlemanly about his parts.

…_everything was quite enlarged and not in the way you would have liked. _He smiled at her attempt to make him feel better. In this case he was guessing the size of the submarine would have sacred the enemy. Not delighted the bunkmate._ Followed the doctor's instructions and well you are still there. Your appendage all attached everything where it should be._ All attached, was something missing? He hadn't noticed anything when he took a leak. Reaching down he checked, no all there.

_Don't think you will be doing the horizontal mambo for a while, but don't worry you will be back inside_ _in no time. _'Back inside in no time? No, more like not for a long time.' Fuck John Winchester, this poor girl had to help him do things like 'relieve him self' and clean up his guts off her. Who knows what else she isn't telling him. Judging by her sincere efforts to make him smile, there was quite a bit.

_Moving onto more important things, your baby. Dean, I got to tell you, driving her, she is one fine ride._ _(That was written with the appropriate sigh.)_ She drove his car! Least he could do, least he could do. _Don't worry she's okay now. _Now!_ Had to put gas and oil in her. Fill the tires and the spare. She is in the detached garage with a chamois blanket covering her._ That man messed with his car. That was just wrong. This was all wrong.

_Your keys, wallet… (there is five hundred in the billfold, use it wisely) _She left him money? Shouldn't it have been the other way around? … _and two cell phones are in the nightstand drawer._ Two cell phones? _One you will recognize as yours, somehow it escaped damage. The other is an emergency phone, if something happens or your condition takes a nose drive. Pound one will get me. Other wise Dean you will heal, both your heart and body. Though I imagine the heart will take longer. Please forgive me for leaving you with a quote it just seemed appropriate. _

Out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be, for my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced nor cried aloud, under the bludgeoning of chance, my head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the horror of the shade, and yet the menace of the years finds, and shall find me, unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishment the scroll, I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.

Smiling a sad smile, Invictus, by William Earnest Henley. There was no way she could have known. Dean tucked the note in the band of his pants grabbed the now empty fluid container, cane and headed back to the kitchen. The mentally exhausted man cleaned and rinsed the sunflower adorned ceramic. He found the practice strangely cathartic. Then with determination in his limp the no longer cocky twenty six year old made he was towards the bedroom. Securing his keys from the dresser he penguin walked out to see his baby.

By the time he made it all the way to his car... 'Really was it necessary to put a garage one hundred miles from the house?' …he was winded and sweating. Knowing it was a corporeal connection to everything he held dear he sat in the driver's seat hoping that he would be find that unnamed something. His breath was still uneven he rested his stitched head on the steering wheel while he tried to get his inhalation and exhalations under control.

As soon as the disparaged hunter felt they were he reached over to the tape player. When he went to push the gift from Sam into the machine he realized his ring was gone. 'Figures. Maybe it is a sign.' More than likely though, his hands swelled and his Angel, being the assiduous person she was, removed it.

Clad in only a black tee shirt and the way to soft for their own good boxers Dean sat in his baby. By the time he had listened to an entire tape he felt his heart rate return too normal. Knowing he needed to make the long ass trek back to the house before dark, he exited the vehicle.

Holy crap how many more steps was the walk back to the cabin. Fifty feet seemed like five thousand miles. When he reached the door he steadied himself. His breath was again becoming labored. Freight trains made less noise. 'Never let the enemy hear you coming.' By the time he got back to the bedroom, which the hunter was convinced took an hour; it was all he could do to not pass out.

Okay Dean my boy. It's nappy nap time. His dreams were filled with broken down and destructed images. "Dean, Dean." Sammy was yelling he needed help. "Dean! Dean!" The more his subconscious listened, the more it became cognizant of the fact it was his father. "Wake up sissy, take your beating like a man."

December 15, 1993Weeping Water, Nebraska

"Dean, what if she gets me?" A nervous eleven year old Sam asked. "Sam, Dad has his sights trained on her. You know how good a shot he is." Brown green windows of doubt looked at him. Sighing Dean continued, "Just stay where I can see you Amos. Promise me." "I promise Craven." Dean smiled they used their code names when they were ignoring fear. Then he ruffled his little brother's hair, hair that had a complete mind of its own.

Wind was howling, his not wanting to wake mind amplified the sound, then twisted it. 'Why was the wind howling?' "Dean I am scared." Before Dean could answer he heard John's voice in his ear. "Shut him the fuck up." Oh hell it was going to be one of those nights he thought. "Sammy, you have to be quiet, please."

Fire. He could smell it the smoke. It was saturating him. Sammy was disappearing he had to save him. The still asleep body fought against it. Fire. It terrified him. His brother was walking towards him. His subconscious yelled at him to stop. "Don't Sammy, don't." He was going to loose everything, no amount of battle was going to change it.

Before his distorted mind could scream again, the apparition had it transparent hands on his brother. He ran the ghost into the water where he stayed nearly frozen for almost an hour. Still in a coma his body rattled from the cold, to his brain he was in the river.

His Dad wouldn't let him out, made him stand in there. 'What was he yelling?' He felt the sting of the punch on his check, his hand reached out of the dream sequence to touch it. "Get up Dean, take it like a man." He could feel the spittle from the furious man's lips.

May 31, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

The denigrated dirty blond awoke with a start. 'Take your beating like a man. He Dad had said take it like a man, he never used the phrase beating, ever. Oh hell, it took him a minute. Where was he? Was he in Nebraska? Where was Sam?' His eyes concentrated on the wall in front of him he recalled where he was. Actually all he knew was a cabin he assumed he was still in Missouri.

Fuck, his heart felt as if it was going to hammer out of his discolored chest. How he got the cell phone out of the nightstand he will never know. Pound one. Ring, ring. She said pound one would get her. Half a ring later, a groggy female voice answered. "Mr. Winchester, is everything okay?" The girl on the other end of the phone asked, sleep still perceptible in her speech. "Angel, what's wrong with me?" The minute she heard the fear in his voice she woke right up.

"Angel?" His voice was tight. "Mr. Winchester, stay with me. Talk to me, tell me what is happening." "My heart…" The maligned warrior tried to breath. "…is racing it feels like it is on the part of route 66 that…" he struggled to the statement out. "…leads to nowhere."

One complete inhale and exhale. "The dreams, oh fuck. Please make them go away. My head it going to explode. The room is swimming. I hate Nebraska." "Mr. Winche…" The nursemaid tried to get out. "Damn it Angel call me Dean." The pleading nature of the request did not go unnoted. 'Okay no Mr. Winchester, got it. And he hates Nebraska. Nebraska what does that have to do with anything?'

"Dean do you see the red button on your phone?" She kept her voice calm. "Yes." The one word answer was shaky. "Press it. Can you hear me?" The girl maintained her even tone, no need to spook him. "Is that a speaker phone?" She chuckled she had a nice sounding chuckle. "Yes Dean it is. Now, prop the pillows up on the bed so that you can lean against them." His Angel's serene voice was leading him out of the fog.

"My head, what is wrong with my head?" The alarm in the statement was had to ignore. While she was talking with the abused man she opened her laptop accessed a file and started typing. The caregiver with the moniker Angel choose a new tactic. "Other than the fact it was repeatedly bashed?" His strangled laugh and retort gave her hope. "Angel, your humor is waning." "Easy there Kansas." Two could play at that game.

"Did you take any of the painkillers?" The Florence in her took over. "No. I don't like drugs." For such a gregarious person, his reply was small. "That's why. Heart racing, head pounding, nightmare like dreams, am going to guess you are sweating?" "Yes." Again with the diminutive tone, fear, he was disquieted. "You are coming off the drugs, they did come a high grade warning." He vaguely remembered the post it.

"Am sorry Dean. It's only going to get worse before it gets better. I won't leave you though." Those words eased his palpating heart. "Are you going to come back?" The pure hope it the question attacked her. "My employer only approved being with you while you were unconscious." "Angel, please." She could hear the desperation in the plea. 'Damn it.' He hated to beg, but he didn't want to be alone. She heard him reach violently.

"Make sure to sit up Dean, don't aspirate." He heard her rustling. That was a good sign maybe she would fly to him. "Angel, there is blood is the vomit. The room is swimming. Black spots, the spots are taking over." His cadence took on that of someone who was not in complete control of his facilities. "Don't pass out on me Kansas. Stay with me."

He was through trying. Sad as it was he had to face the fact no one wanted to be with him. He was yesterday's trash the garbage men didn't even want to pick up. "Oh please. Just let me die." That was the moment the girl who was on the other end of the phone decided she was going to hurt John Winchester if it was the last thing she did. With that thought it mind she threw caution to the wind climbed in her truck and started the ignition.

"Dean Christopher Winchester. Don't you dare say that. Not after everything I went through to make sure that didn't happen." His paternal unit only yelled his full name when he was trying to make an important point. Maybe she did care. "Angel, did you just yell at me?"

Almost there, she was almost there. Angels and saints what was she doing? The cabin was in sight. "Yes, and I will do it again." "Where are you?" He was trying to keep his mind off the fact he was going to die. "On my way, against my better judgment I might add." His Angel wasn't going to leave him. ' Oh shit,' he was going to puke again.

"Kansas, stay with me. Breathe, in through the nose, purse lip it out." He followed her instructions; at least he thought he did. What the hell was a purse lip? Shit he was starting to shake. This was exactly why he said no to drugs, the after effects. "Angel, I'm shaking." "How bad?" She was kidding right? How does one rate shaking? "Spin cycle on a dryer."

She was pulling down the rocky dirt roadway that led to the safe house. "Almost there Kansas, I'm almost there. Stay with me, don't pass out." She heard the tell tale sounds of dry heaving. Bloody hell. The wrath she was going to incur when she was caught. Dean heard a vehicle in front of the wood structure.

"Kansas, you still with me?" She sounded worried. "Yes, still here." His answer was a little spacey. Dean heard the front door opening. "Angel, oh hell its... His Angel opened the bedroom door just in time for him to vomit all over. She smiled at him. Then knelt down and placed a hand to his head, her touch felt cool against his clammy skin.

"Better out than in." Her hand stayed on his stitched forehead. "Anymore hiding in there or think you might be done? At least for the moment?" No remonstration in her questions, just genuine concern. His throat tightened involuntarily. "Think I am done. For now, no promises though." She couldn't help the laugh that escaped. The resignation in his voice was unmistakable.

"Okay Kansas, what do you say we get you fixed up then?" Fixing him up? He wondered what that entailed. Flogging? He wasn't alone that was the important thing. "Let's rock n roll." Her smile increased. "Maintaining your sense of humor is a good sign." "Anything for you Angel." She laughed at the largeness of the statement. "Careful Kansas. I will make sure you live to full fill that vow."

He looked her in the eyes completely serious. "Anything." With that pledge out of the way he promptly spewed what was left of his innards on her lap. "Sorry Angel. I guess I did have more hiding in there." He voice was sheepish. "Its okay Dean, its not the first time. Besides clothes wash." Her words were said only compassion. Eyes twinkling she asked. "How would you feel about taking something that would make this stop?" "Woo-fucking-eee."

Then the aggrieved man coughed and looked at his lap. "Dean?" He was too still. "Sorry again Angel." Why was he apologizing? "About what?" He sighed and replied "my inappropriate language." She bit back a chuckle. "It's not the first time I have heard a bad word." "Yeah well my Dad did raise me with enough manners so as not to curse around woman." She put a gentle hand on his clasped ones. "You are a good man." He wished he felt like it.

His Angel of Mercy stood up and went into the bathroom. When she came back out she had a bottle and a washcloth. He watched her small hand pour a glass of water maintaining eye contact. "Making sure I'm not going to keel over Angel?" No twinkle just concern. "Something like that Kansas, something like that." Finished pouring the still wearing half her pajama's caretaker sat next to her patient.

She held the back of his neck while he got the medicine and water down. Her hand was soft. Lotion, woman used pretty lotions for things like that. 'Wonder what scent she favors?' "Crimney that fucking hurts." He shook his head. "Sorry." She ignored the unneeded apology. "Your throat's going to be a little raw." Hazel eyes looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "Gee, you think?"

He watched as she put the cup back on the nightstand. 'Oh hell,' he head was spinning like a Mid West tornado. She picked up his hand. 'What the?' Florence was taking his pulse. Then she listened to his heart while she watched his chest. Making sure his breathing was returning to normal. Her brown eyes went back to looking at him. Checking his pupils. No flies on her.

His cheeky streak came to the surface before he could stop it. "So Angel, what do you think? Soft hands, strong heart, mesmerizing eyes." She sighed not unlike a patience adult with an unruly toddler, "Kansas, you know you're the cock of the walk. If you don't want to be dust in the wind, shut it." He smiled his patented Dean smile, well tried anyhow. "Nice gratuitous classic rock reference." "Thank you, I try." Was her droll response.

His body was coming down he could feel it. She could too. "What do you say we get this place and you cleaned up?" He frowned. 'Frowning why was he frowning?' "Dean?" She sounded worried. He looked at her eyes filled with, was that shame? "Angel, I am sorry." The strong hunter sounded humiliated. "For what this time?" "This. Having to help clean up." Was that it, poor guy. "Never you mind that Kansas. We're cool."

"I do mind." His eyes pleaded with her to understand. She did. Reaching her hands up, she very, very, very gently held his face. "You did not do this to yourself. Please do not apologize. If anyone should it's your father." His eyes looked down, he felt exenterated.

With a tiny bit of force in her voice the girl whom he called Angel said " please look at me." Dean brought his tortured eyes to her level. Making sure to emphasis each word. "Ain't nobody's fault but his." He eyes twinkled a small bit, "again nice classic rock reference." This time her response was softer, "Thank you, I try." Dropping her hands, she grabbed the remote flipped on the cd player.

**Free's**, Be My Friend, rent the air. All I need is a friend someone to give a helpin' hand… First she helped him up off the bed and stripped him down. …When I am afraid in the night someone to squeeze me and tell me it's alright… The invalid locked eyes with his nurse. She took his hands squeezed them and with the most beautiful smile he had ever witnessed told him, "it's alright."

Next she took the top off the water dispenser and put the washcloth in. …You know I worry such a lot and I would give all I've got. Just to have someone believe in me. Just to do that and put me back on evenly... The maligned party flinched when she put the rag on abused arm. His sweet Angel looked at him. Concern in her voice, "Did I hurt you?"

Was the great Dean Winchester blushing? "No, I am sorta…" She was staring at him intently. Knowing he was a lovely shade of crimson, must compliment the bruises nicely, he took a deep breath and continued, "…embarrassed." …Baby, baby be my friend. Baby, baby be my friend. Baby, baby be my friend. I will love you till the end…Chuckling she replied "Come on I have heard the talk, I know I am not the first girl to see you without your clothes on, and doubt I'll be the last."

…You make me feel a stronger love than anyone I've ever known. Oh I need someone like you. You give me something so strong and true… She was trying to get him back on solid footing. He didn't disappoint. "Okay, Angel you win. All though what ever the number you heard, I am sure it was greatly exaggerated." Smiling at him indulgently, she went back to work. Task completed, she helped him into new clothes and over to the rather large orange bedside chair.

"Angel, is my baby really okay? Did he hurt her?" The young woman currently changing the sheets on the queen size bed wondered how long it would take for him to ask about the Impala. "No Kansas he didn't. Besides, I know you went out and checked on her."

How did she know? "You watched me? That's kinda creepy." Rolling her eyes as she put a pillowcase on one of the pillows, "No, why would I do that? Of course you would check on your car. Your beautiful care is the one tangible thing you have at this point." The embattled hunter couldn't resist smiling at the way she said beautiful car.

"Psychology 101, Angel?" He bantered. "Dean Winchester 101. Dean - Family - Impala - Hunting - Fucking." She countered as finished bundling the dirty bed coverings. " Angel, you have quite a way of expressing yourself." The young man smirked as he said this. "Such praise for my repartee, what is a girl to do?" She smirked right back.

"All righty then floors clean. Beds ready. Lets get you tucked in." Finally some legendary Dean charm, the phrase tucking him into bed elicited a devilish grin from him. "Thanks for the compliment Kansas, but I'm way out of your league." Her voice was quiet as she said this she really believed it. He was taken back, "why would you say that?" he questioned careful to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"Maybe your eyesight hasn't completely returned Kansas, the swelling and all. I am not blond, blessed with big girls or a demure figure." She laughed as explained this. "Angel, you rock my world just the way you are." The normally flippant Winchester replied as sincere as they come. "Besides, I don't even know what demure means." Her eyebrow raised in an expression that said, 'oh please.'

The newly arrived visitor helped him sit on the bed then lifted his legs up careful of the clunky brace. Then his nursemaid pulled the covers over his chest, patting the top as she folded it down giving his arms room. He stared at her hand; the unconscious gesture chocked him up. To think after all these years, someone tucked him into bed. Not the other way around.

"Do you think you will be okay while I wash off and change?" Dean gave her a head to toe inspection. The poor girl was currently drenched with his puke. He decided to keep the atmosphere light if he continued the way he was thinking he might just ball. "Can I watch?" A heavy sigh and "I'll take that as a yes," was her exasperated response.

"Going outside for a second." Giving her charge one last appraising look, she exited the room. Then Dean heard her open the front door to the cabin. He could faintly make out the sounds of a door squeaking. When she returned from her vehicle she had a black overnight bag and a leather briefcase. Judging by the indents, a laptop was the current occupant of the satchel.

Smiling at him she questioned the duration of his examination, "are you through now?" Dean swallowed, "yes." Putting her computer bag down on the chair, his Angel gave him a one last look and headed to the bathroom. Mind full to leave the door cracked open in case he called out.

No more than ten minutes later she emerged. What kinda girl takes showers that fast? Even Sammy takes longer. Hell even his Dad, no not Dad, that man and he was a Marine. Hum, interesting very interesting.

With Dean's head and heart returning to normal he was able to focus on his Angel. She was 5'8 maybe. With curves, but pleasing so. She was no size two, but then who needed to be that small. Chicks that tiny break. His Angel seemed a formidable woman. "It takes an iron fortitude in a man to walk into battle not knowing if he will live or die." John's words echoed in his mind. Dean imagined his Angel's had that iron will.

Her eyes were brown, a beautiful brown that looked him without pity only a kindness that warmed something inside him, something he didn't even know was cold. Her hair from what he could tell was brown. What was with the severe bun? Although in her defense, he had woken her up in the middle of the night.

"Take a picture Kansas it lasts longer." Sweetheart had a mouth to make him proud. His rescuer had changed out of the jeans and white tee shirt with a duck on it. Above the duck it said quack, quack. It was probably the top half of her pajamas. The now showered girl had exchanged the vomit soaked clothes for black cargo pants and an appropriately scripted for the situation tee shirt. 'Life's a bitch.'

"Love the shirt Angel." His eyes were sparkling with merriment. "Ain't it the truth?" Her eyes twinkled back. "Ain't it," was his quick reply. They both cracked up, sharing a comfortable moment. The girl with the brown eyes sat down on the plush bed next to him then instinctively took his pulse. Finding it in order she released his wrist.

He lifted that hand to her cheek moving her face to the light. He swallowed, "I did that?" "You are a fighter Dean, your first instinct was to come up fighting and that's what you did. I would have been more worried if you hadn't." There was no anger in her voice she meant what she said. Still he felt terrible. "That's one hell of a bruise." Feeling bad for him she jived a little. "You throw one hell of a punch." "Guess that runs in the family." Dean said without anger just dejected resignation. "Guess it does." She said quietly.

"Kansas, you do realize we are in a reprieve state. When the withdrawals come back it will be worse." As his Angel said this, he could feel himself go gray. Still she had said we are, not you are. Watching his reaction and wanting him to be reassured "Dean I promise you I will not leave." He looked her in her doe colored eyes, "I know Angel."

The proclaimer of 'life's a bitch' decided the emotions in the room were still too raw to be exposed. Giving her charge a haughty look she popped off the bed and walked bare foot out the door. "I'll be right back," could be heard from the hallway area. A short time later she returned sunflower covered ceramics in hand. "Cocoa." They said in unison. She smiled at him her smile could light up a room. Her smile could light up the dormant recesses of his heart.

What a wonderful woman she who had nursed him back to health, well in the process of anyhow. Her delicate fingers placed the mugs in his large calloused ones. Then she turned and pulled the orange chair up next to the bed. Dean cocked an eyebrow as if to say 'are you sure that is wise?' "When you feel it coming on, I'll move." "Are you a mind reader," he questioned as he handed over her seeping Nestle drink, which she rested on her upturned knees. "Kansas you crack me up, a minder reader."

"Why do you?" These asked over each other. "Ladies first," the Kansas native said complete with hand flourish. "Why thank you sir, you are such a gentleman." Before he could stop himself he replied "not always." Her eyes looked at him tenderly and with no small amount of understanding said, "I imagine you are when it counts." He cleared his throat, "yes." The one word answer spoke volumes.

"Why do you call me Angel?" "Because you have to be to do what you did. To do what you are still doing. Besides sweetheart you didn't offer a name with any of your ten thousand notes." She smiled procuring no more in the way of a reply. 'A smile, all he got was a stinking smile and a forced one at that.' No twinkling in her eyes either, they were stone cold.

"Why do call me Kansas?" Her chocolate windows to the soul became hazy as she answered the inquiry. Sweetheart had learned the fine art of deflection. "Your father told me the story of your birth and well it seemed fitting. Would you rather I stick with Dean?" She asked the question with such consideration he could tell she wanted him to know she respected him. In no way wanted to insult whatever dignity he had left. "No, no. Kansas is fine." Dean nodded at her.

If the chick had options, so should he. "Will I get to learn you name?" He knew before he asked he wasn't going to receive the response he was looking for. That's fine, needling was a one of his special skills. Hopefully he hadn't lost his touch. The Winchester hunter was determined to extract the information. Solemnly she answered, "Dean I wish I could. As with before that is not an action that has been approved by my employer." He studied her intently there was no give in her face. 'Wow, she is one of us.'

"You broke the rules to come to me." The trying not to sound bitter warrior stated with heat in his voice. "If you want to get technical about it, I didn't break the rules, I walked the line. Nothing is more important than the health and welling being of the Winchester's. Whatever they need we give them, you required immediate medical assistance." The battered young man went to say something she stalled him with an upturned hand knowing what he was thinking. "The man specifically stated I was not to give you my name."

Dean continued to assess her. He knew his eyes could be pulverizing when the situation called for it. She sighed at his overheated expression. "Here is the thing Kansas right now we are in a comfortable, or as comfortable as one can be, holding pattern. But you a very proud man Dean. The next time we meet everything will be out in the open." She took a bolstering sip out of the mug before continuing, which her companion let her do with out comment. 'That can't be a good sign.'

"I am afraid that all the kindness you are feeling will be replaced by the cold hard reality of anger. Information will be out in the open, things will be revealed, and it is not something you will take lightly. You will feel betrayed. You have had enough of trusting people and have them turn on you. I don't want to be another person who let you down." His Angel gave him a sad look. She felt his pain as he felt it.

'Oh fuck.' "Angel, I appreciate your sincerity and integrity. You have shone me more in the past hour than my family has in ages. Please, don't know how much pride I have left, for heavens sake you help me pee. Don't know how much more stripped down a man can get." She laughed the kind that actually makes your lips turn and cheeks red, "You only peed on me once." His cheeks turned red for a whole nother reason, "Please tell me you are joking." "Fraid not." She replied with humor and clemency for the poor in her voice.

"Tell me your name." He implored. "Oh my, you just won't let it go will you." When she looked up from the safety of her cup she expected to find his face hard and uncompromising. It was soft, beseeching, but open. Giving it one more try and knowing she was going to cave the Florence Nightingale went on "One day you will be well and out for the truth. You are nothing if not resourceful Kansas, you could use my name to track my employer before its time." She was stalling, he knew he was going to ware her down, he had nothing but time.

"This might surprise you Angel, but I am not mad at my Dad for what he did to me. To you yes, me no. I might be angry at the situation, furious even but I must trust in the fact he had a good reason." The sad warrior finished and looked at her.

"No Dean, it doesn't surprise me. At the risk of getting too chick flick for you." He smiled and nodded for her to continue. She returned the smile. "You are a man of quiet dignity. As much as you might have brawn, your strength comes from your heart and ability to grasp that which isn't obvious."

The normally confident hunter looked down at his drink, not used to the words and displays of emotions swirling in the room. If he had been looking at his Angel he would have been privy to the empathetic understanding in her eyes. "Your father felt he needed to go the rest of this road alone. He knew you wouldn't take no for an answer. Apparently in addition to soft hands, strong heart and mesmerizing eyes you also have a stubborn streak a Kansas mile long." He laughed at her reiteration of his earlier words.

Dean felt his heart pound yes he had stubborn streak but the responsibility to take care of his family had been ingrained in him at such a young age he didn't know how to change. 'You protect your family at all costs.' Part of him understood, part of him didn't and he needed to vent a little of his seething below the surface rage out.

"So he beat holy fuck out of me?" When he didn't put forth a needless apology for his verbiage, she put a calm hand on his hoping it would have the desired effect. "Please don't get upset, your going to be sick enough." "Breathe Dean, Breathe." Dean said to himself. "If it's any consolation when he came to thank me, I gave a what for. Emphasized rather loudly all things I am sure you are thinking. Begged him not to leave it like this, to talk to you and explain it." 'She begged for him? Wow.'

'Alone, he was all alone.' "Angel, please tell me your name." His body was hunched in as he asked, instinctively protecting himself against the letdown. When he stared unyieldingly at her sad hazel eyes to brown, Dean knew he had her. She sighed and her face fell she knew he needed the connection. Code names meant he was nothing. A real name that was tangible, it meant she was real. If she was real he wouldn't be alone.

He watched her inner dialogue with male fascination he was normally not privy to this side of a woman. If he was studying a girl's face it usually had to do with sex. The caretaker could feel his eyes on her, assessing her. Good ahead she thought watch me crack. One more strengthening breath and she went for it.

'What was her name? Was it that bad?' "Its Mary, Mary Carney." Silently he processed this. Mary. Of course, why would it be anything else? "Mary is a beautiful name, for a beautiful person." She laughed. "Thank you Dean." He knew why she was worried. His mom.

He let it go, no reason to rub it in or harp on it. He knew her name. Now his Angel was a person to him, not just a solid apparition to take care of him in his time of need. "So tell me Angel, did my father provide all the information? My favorite foods, my love of hot chocolate?" Dean held up his cup as he asked. "Or preferred brands of toothpaste and shaving cream, not that I will be using the later for awhile." He grimaced at the thought of even touching his face with fingers, never mind a sharp razor. She was grateful he dropped the subject. Trying to make him smile his Angel said, "girls love a little shadow on the chin, its sexy and presents a devil may care attitude."

Batting his eyes suggestively Dean asked, "You think I am sexy?" Batting her eyes back, "Of course your sexy Kansas, you know that. I told you even beat to hell you are handsome. There your ego has been pumped and stroked." His eyes darkened, his voice became a little huskier "Angel really you want to pump and stroke me? Sweetheart, for you, I am ready and willing." She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "I don't let just anyone pump and stroke me."

Uh oh, her smile took on a look he didn't like. Taking a sip of her drink she continued, "Kansas, I hate to break it to you. Really, I do." Sure she did he could see it in her face she really conveyed that. Maybe it was the down right maniacal glint in her eye that gave it away. "In order to get you to take care a business, I kinda had to pump and stroke you."

Dean sighed, "Please…" She talked right over him and with a grin said, "You moaned, at point loudly. So I guess you were happy with the job I had done." The twenty six year old ladies man hid his face in his hands. "Dean? Dean, are you okay?" His Angel asked, all joking gone, he could hear the worry at the forefront in her voice. "I'm cool, just embarrassed, really honestly truly embarrassed. Angel, I am so sorry." He was embarrassed once he moved his hands she could see the red in his cheeks. Bless his poor heart.

"Kansas, I am not complaining. It had to be done, besides you are quite beautiful to look at, bruises and all." Complementing him and she meant it. The girl was too kind. "So are you Angel, so are you." Dean said with utter sincerity. She ignored him.

"Yes, Kansas. Mr. Winchester did provide all the information. He provided a file and came in person. My phone rings steadily with his inquires. Mr. Winchester and my employer are very good friends. It is not the first time we have meet or talked. Actually we talk on a regular basis when he is trying to contact the man." Pausing she took another sip of her now cooled hot chocolate. The hunter recognized deflection when he saw it.

"Your father is very concerned." She looked past him when she provided this information. What wasn't his Angel telling him? "So mother fucker pounds the stuffing out of me, so he can go his road alone. Why the fuck didn't hit this road that was so important to him?" Dean asked not able to contain or really wanting to harness the vehemence and fury in his voice. Then as an after thought, "sorry about the cursing."

Not even acknowledging the apology she looked at him and responded. "Because he loves you and needs to make sure you are okay. Personally I know he regrets his decision, getting him to admit that. Well you Winchester folk aren't big on the show and tell thing. Although you are awfully forth coming with the begging your pardon's. Your father, not so much."

The bed bound hunter set his cup down and looked at his hands. In a quiet voice he said, "That's not really true. My Dad will apologize if he feels he has done something wrong or the situation warrants it. He never hides behind the curtain when it comes to owning up." When he finished speaking his sigh was so heavy his Angel felt it in her toes.

Wanting to give him so reassurance, "Do you remember what he said to you as you lost consciousness?" She placed the ceramic next to his and maneuvered her little hand between his big ones when he didn't fight the gesture she knew she made a good decision. "No, sucks to be you?" Came Dean's sarcastic reply. Good old caustic humor, where would they be without it.

"Dean forgive me for what I have done and am about to do. I love you. You are my rock and my salvation. I have to save you." Dean lowered his head, tears stinging his eyes. His hand tightened around hers. Head still down, swallowing a huge lump that suddenly appeared in his throat. "He told you that?"

"Yes, Dean he did. It might have been a result of my giving him a sound tongue lashing. The great John Winchester actually cried real tears when he told me what he said." The young hunter smiled at the thought of this girl, who even though she was no pixie stick was still a half pint compared to his father yelling at the man. "He also told me it killed him and that apparently you have a bad history with barns."

Deans half laughed half chocked out his reply. "You could say that." He brought his head up, eyes bright with unshed tears he was still trying to filter the words from his father. "It was a week before my ninth birthday." She stopped him. "Dean you don't have to share anything with me. Your personal information and history is just that, personal." He laughed, "Angel I have spilled my guts and bodily fluids all over you, how much more personal can it get?"

She smiled at him. "I just meant that you don't have to tell me anything. Especially something you might regret later." Smiling he continued. "Angel, its okay. Besides this chick shit is starting to make me ache like it's my time of the month." Before she could stop herself his Angel smacked back, "and here I thought the bumps and bruises that littered your body. I do have some have some Midol if you need it. " Dean was enjoying the banter, "Why sweetheart do you think I look bloated?" "Maybe just a little. Water weight, ain't it a bitch?" Dean watched her waggle her eyes in a commiserative manner. His hazel eyes sparkled with merriment as his deadpanned complete with headshake. "It totally is."

"So it was a week before my ninth birthday, Dad was on a simple gbg job." He was about to go on when she questioned "A what?" He forgot there were people out there that didn't have a copy of the Winchester Anachronism Dictionary. "Sorry, gbg meaning ghost be gone." She laughed. "Gbg, I like it. May I use it?" "You hunt?" Dean asked thinking, 'shit there is a lot I don't know about this girl.' "In a round about way, not quite with the ferocity of the Winchester boys." She replied with a little too much twinkle in her cocoa colored eyes.

"The way you say Winchester boys…" Dean looked at her leaving that statement hang as an open question. "You are kinda legendary. If I were the gossiping kind, I could sell the info of seeing the famous Dean Winchester without his clothes on." She was earnestly laughing when she told him this. He shook his head, "You know Angel when I am better we are going to have to talk about this." She looked at him, all joking gone. "I will answer any question I am able to Dean, you have my word."

He nodded, as if to say, 'understood.' Prompting him to continue, "So you were almost nine." "Almost nine, Dad was on a simple gbg. Sammy and I were to wait in the truck on this one. Dad yelled." Pausing he reached over to the nightstand, grabbed the ceramic and took a sip of cocoa, his eyes faraway. "Just like he did the night my mother died. Sammy and I looked at each other. Kid begged me to go in. Not that it took much. Nobody was going to take our Dad. He was all we had. With no regard for the rules, I ran in. Shotgun in hand."

Not missing the emphasis on the no regard for the rules part she commented. "Somehow, I get the feeling the rules might have been something akin to, Dean when I say no it means no." His Angel was a laugh a minute and she said it in a fairly decent impression of the old man too. "How did you guess?" "Your Dad loves and wants to protect you. At almost nine, he figured, my word is the law would work." His Angel was quick too.

"He did figure that. But ole Dean Winchester, he never does things the easy way." Stopping for another small sip of his drink he continued. Dean was happy to see that his charm wasn't so rusty he couldn't captivate an audience of one with a childhood story. All be it a memory that hit a little to close to home at the moment.

The dirty blond kept it blithe "Grover the Champion Thrower tossed a hay pick at me. I shot him with rock salt. Then I ran straight to my Dad as fast as my little legs could take me. He hugged me and then smacked my ass so hard, if he hadn't been holding me with his other arm I would have launched half across the barn."

"Your Dad was probably in shock. His son his first born could have been killed and right in front of him." Angel commented pragmatically. "In hindsight Angel I know. But bad thing always happen in barns." His sounded like the almost nine year old, not the half way to twenty seven.

"One smack, aside from an uncomfortable ride home that doesn't seem so bad." She was trying to help. "Oh no Angel, after the uncomfortable ride home, there was an uncomfortable week. I broke the rules. I knew the consequences. To be honest it hurt him as much as it hurt me if not more. Even at not nine I knew he thought I wouldn't love him after the firm talking too he gave my backside. After he tucked me in, I slowly crawled out of bed, watched him walk outside and toss his cookies."

She put her hand on his. "Your father loves you. All he wants to do is protect you and in his own way he is. I am not saying I approve of his way. But I know beyond a shadow of any doubt that man loves you more than anything on this earth." Ms. Carney should look into peacemaking full time. "I know Angel, I do know. That's what makes this hard." He acknowledged with a heavy sigh, squeezing her hand. "What doesn't kill us…" she started to say. Dean cut her off, "makes us stronger." The girl with the sympathetic smile laughed. "No. Doesn't kill us." He laughed she was his kind a woman.

Then out of nowhere "fuck, Dean." Did she just curse? "I don't know if I could get the job done right now, but I'm game for trying if you are." She stared him down, when did woman learn that look? For that matter where, were there classes? It had always fascinated him. He had a distance memory of his Mom looking at his Dad like that. "Did you see the note on your phone?" "No why?" He tried to sit up this must be important she was all business.

"Your brother called, twice." "Fuck." His Angel deadpanned him, "I don't know if you could get the job done right now, but I'm game for trying if you are." With a sincere chuckle Dean deadpanned her back voice deep. "Careful what you say Angel. You will make sure I will live to full fill that vow."

Opening the side drawer she handed him his phone. Looking him in the eye, "Yell if you need me." She went to leave, thinking to give him privacy. He cocked his head, "No sweetheart, you don't need to leave. At this point anything you don't know won't shock you." Putting a hand on his wrist she questioned him. "Are you positive? Despite my ministrations on your person, you still have a right to at least a small amount of privacy."

She cared about him. He could tell. Not just as a job. "Please, just in case." Nodding her head, "Okay Kansas, okay." She pulled a book out of her bag, Joseph Campbell, Masks of God, Primitive Mythology. "Light reading Ms. Carney?" She rolled her eyes and looked at the phone. Flipping it open he read the note out load in a purposely embellished girl voice. "_Mr. Winchester, please be advised your brother phoned twice._" She laughed in spite of being poorly mimicked.

The older sibling held his phone for a second. Then took a deep breath flipping the phone open he punched in the moppet's number. "Sammy, you called." Dean knew this was going to be tricky, his brother had a built in Dean's lying to me meter that's why he never tried. Skirting though, that was an art form.

"Dude, where the fuck have you been? You have never ever gone more than thirteen days without calling and that was because I was an idiot. Even then we spoke twice, when you graciously accepted my calls." The intonation on the word graciously was ground out. The injured brother's throat constricted, he could hear the panic in his cool brother extraordinaire's voice. When Sam didn't try masking that particular emotion, Dean knew that the kid had been up fretting.

"I was worried something happened on your last job. Dude, when I didn't hear from you after the tenth day, I freaked. Day fifteen I swallowed my fucking pride and called Dad." Sam's voice trailed off, he knew this wouldn't make his sibling happy. 'Okay' Dean thought, 'past fretting straight to meltdown.' Much to the pre law students surprise his bestest brother in the world didn't yell or rail at him. "What did dear old Dad say?" The recuperating hunter tried to keep his voice even. Ms. Carney looked at him, her eyes wide. He pointed the phone and mouthed, 'Sam called him.' She mouthed back, 'oh shit.' 'Oh shit indeed' he thought.

Dean knew his brother better than anyone. He could actually hear the kid's brain filtering the conversation. His big little brother was trying to figure out what to tell his older bro, without making either feel bad. When Dean made a promise to Sam that he would never lie to him, he made Sam make the same oath. 'Great why did I have to teach the kid to do the dance?' "Sammy?" The six foot one Winchester tried to keep his voice calm. Dean heard the tell tale sigh, 'that bad, what a fucker.'

May 28, 2005Lawrence, Kansas and Redwood City, California

'Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where the hell was Dean?' Sam paced the hallway for an hour, he figured he wore the varnish right of the wood. He had called and texted. Nothing. He knew something was wrong he felt it in the pit of his stomach. When a job went bad his older brother would call him and they would talk it out.

When Sam first exiled himself out to the land of books and babes as Dean called it he didn't want to hear about hunting, he was done. Then the wraith happened and he knew he couldn't eradicate the hunter part of him. After that he told his bestest brother it was cool, tell him about the jobs. They had never kept anything from each other, why let stupid fucking male pride stand in the way.

His brother wasn't dead, he couldn't be. Sam knew he would have felt a searing pain in his heart, but that did not mean that he wasn't close to it. "Fuck." He said out loud not realizing he was standing in front of a picture of the two of them. It was Thanksgiving, Dean had made a turkey, the younger brother chocked down tears at the memory of the rare happy family holiday moment from his childhood.

"You know what you have to do Sam, grow a pair and do it." He shook his head he was talking to himself. Actually he reasoned with himself he was talking to Dean. Dean was just a photographic reproduction not the real thing. The six foot four recently turned twenty two year old took a steadying breath. Then with an inner strength he thought he lost he grabbed his phone and before he could change his mind he dialed his father's cell phone number. Those four rings were the longest rings of his life.

The emotionally spent father in question looked at his caller id and almost had a heart attack. "Answer your phone John. That boy swallowed his pride, pride he learned from you no doubt to call. He is worried sick about his brother, talk to him." Missouri Mosley looked her friend straight in his bloodshot, red rimmed eyes as she admonished him. 'Fuck.' He thought. As she was turning to give him privacy she said, "and no cursing in my house." He was about to think something else, "just talk to the boy."

The head of the Winchester clan stared at the small device in his hand another shrill ring rang out. 'Come on Johnny boy, grow a pair and do it.' "Samuel." John tried to keep his voice steady and temper free. Sam grimaced at the use of his full name. 'It's for Dean, you can do it.' Even though he hadn't said the words out loud the father heard them as if they were. The boys had their mantras, it's for Sammy, it's for Dean. He knew the never thought it's for Dad. 'Oh hell what did he expect? That elusive father of the year trophy slipped farther and farther out of his grasp.

"Sir." Sam fought to keep the fear out of his voice, his father could smell it however many states away. John bit his lip to keep the tears from coming. "Samuel, why did you call?" He knew why he phoned and that he would. Nothing was more important than Dean. Still he wanted to drag it out. If he did then maybe they would all have a chance at…What he wasn't sure, but the all needed that chance.

The father heard his youngest son expel a strangled sigh. "Sir." Sam's voice caught, John bit his lip harder. "Dad." The former Marine let the tears fall he never thought he would hear his floppy haired kid say Dad again. "Dad, please I know something is wrong Dean. What happened? Is he…I know he isn't dead, I would feel it, but what happened. Please."

"Please…" The word rang in John's head. A part of his little one was still in there. Sammy wanted him to tell him it would be okay. "No Samuel he is not dead. Son you know I would have called you. Despite the way things were left I would never have kept that from you. Though as you say you would have felt it." The son stared at his phone, knowing what the concession had cost his father. Sam inherited his stubborn pride streak from his Dad.

"He was injured pretty bad in Missouri." Before he could stop himself the younger of the two asked. "But I thought it was a simple gbg?" John's throat caught at his son's unconscious use of the phrase gbg. "It was a simple gbg, exercise the spirits from the barn and be done with it."

Again his boy made a comment. "A barn, he was hurt in a barn…" The barefoot lanky Winchester let his question run off. The father gripped his phone hard. It had been almost twenty years and yet that night had never left them, any of them. "Yes Sammy he was hurt in a barn." Sam knew his Dad was thinking the same thing he was if he went from calling him Samuel to Sammy.

The Centropolis native currently pacing his friend's hallway waited for the question he knew was coming next. Actually the two, they would be asked one right after the other. 'First.' "How bad?" An audible swallow, the scraped knuckled father waited. 'Second.' "Should I come and see him?" Here it was a turning point John could seize it or let it go. He couldn't beat one to hell and provide the other the absolution he was so desperately seeking. But he wouldn't shame the older brother to the younger. Dean deserved more than that. He would also be damned if he lost them all together.

Before he could answer his younger son's heartfelt statement stopped him. "He must be so upset, a barn. He hates barns, try's like hell to stay out of him. It was be driving him insane." 'Turn the knife Sammy, turn it.' The Dad of two said to himself. To Sam, "bad enough, but you know your brother he is made out of steel." Sam didn't even laugh just uttered in a very resigned voice, "Don't I wish. But his character died on Smallville." It took the forty nine year old a second to realize his son was attempting humor. Just like Dean would have.

"Sammy, he will be okay. His knee was dislocated and his face banged up. Also, he might have taken a blow below the belt." The cool brother extraordinaire said, "Oh Craven, I am so sorry. I should have been there to protect you." 'There is nothing you could have done son.' John knew his boy couldn't hear him but… He let the statement go, he could have taken it and crushed Sam, but that wouldn't help the situation any.

"I don't think he would want you to see him in his current state." Before Sam could make the inevitable comment the pacer continued. "If I thought it would help son I would tell you where he was, but told me he never wanted you to see him when he was hurt like that. Not after you made your decision. 'Promise me Dad, not unless it's the end. He wanted out, don't pull him back in he needs to have the break.' I have to respect his wishes Sammy." The stuck in California Winchester could hear his brother's voice saying those words.

"You promise me, he will be okay." Not knowing weather he was lying or not John said, "You have my word Samuel, you have my word." The next question surprised the tortured father, "are you alright sir?" John could hear the genuine concern in his little one's inquiry. "Yes son, Dean received the brunt of the injuries, I am relatively unharmed." "I am glad." The simple statement almost brought John to his knees. Sam meant it.

"Thank you for talking with me sir, I know we are not on the best of terms, and that given the chance you would probably beat my ass but good, so thank you." The father's hands cramped at the admission he knew what it cost Sam. The shit had inherited his damn pride from John.

"I would never stand between your connection with your brother as angry as I might be at you. Beat your ass but good, no son, it wouldn't make a difference, you made your decision, I made mine. Now before we enter into another argument that will get us nowhere why don't we say good bye." John hoped his child would take the bait. "Yes sir." "Bye Sammy." "Bye Dad." When the men had disconnected their respective phones the both said to the now blank screens, "I love you."

May 31, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

Dean took a deep breath. 'Wow, his father had done right by them both.' Still he had to follow his Dad's lead. Here goes nothing. Escape and evade. If he had to tell his brother he would, he just wasn't ready. He had to process what happened before he shared it. Because Dean knew sure as the sun was going to rise when he did tell him, Sam would do to their father what he had done to his bestest brother. Their close circle might joke about Dean always defending Sam, but it went both ways.

As much as he tried to not acknowledge the fact, Sammy was like their dear old paternal unit. Feral when he needed to be. Dean prided himself on being the reasonable one in the family. He shuddered to think of what Sam would do if totally unleashed. They might have their squabbles and differences, but he knew the shit loved him. This would not be something Sam would forgive their Dad for. Nobody messed with his bestest brother in the world.

At least his father had provided him a lead in, colored the landscape. He made it sound like a spring storm not a tornado. Dear old fucking Dad could have lied instead he just omitted the whole truth. There was a difference. Dean also knew he father colored the landscape for his benefit, didn't want him completely demoralized in front of his brother. If it was just about John he would let Sam think the worst.

"Sammy, I am okay. My knee hurts like a bitch. My face feels like it was run over. Actually my whole body feels like I was dumped out of a moving vehicle at one hundred miles an hour." Euphemistically it had. Interpretation, if Sam got one thing from the statement and him another, who was he to point it out.

"Oh Dean, a barn, I am so sorry, I should have been there." The twenty six year old didn't realize how tight he twisted the covers until he felt a hand on his lightly massaging the fist. "Dude, I am cool. Yeah it sucked that of all places to have my ass kicked it was in a fucking barn. Still you couldn't have done anything. Your place is at school. Someone in this family deserves a real life. You drew the long straw geek boy." Dean heard his brother snort. 'Oh crap.'

"I was out of my fucking mind with worry, let me worry about you, don't take that away from me." Sam's voice had an edge to it. Dean closed his eyes. "Sammy, you are right." The older brother laughed at his younger sibling's reaction to the statement. "I am?" All the wind had been taken out of his sails. Dean just agreed with him. "It's bad isn't it? If you are agreeing with me…"

The bestest brother in the world laughed, his patented laugh. "No Sammy, I promise you, I will live, I am going to be okay." The kid huffed. "Have I ever lied to you?" Even as the words exited his mouth the abhorrer of barns felt his stomach turn. Lying no, omitting yes. 'Fuck it there was a difference. Wasn't there?' "No." Sam's voice was strong. "Where are you? Why aren't you with Dad?" 'If I only knew the answers to those questions…'

'Grow a pair and do it.' Dean thought. "I am in a comfy little mid west cabin. There are certain comforts Dad couldn't provide. Figured if I was holed up in bed for a little awhile it might as well be with a sweet piece of ass." Before Dean could manipulate the truth any further the sweet piece of ass chuckled. The Stanford University student heard her. "Sorry dude didn't know as long as you are okay." The okay was said with a colossal sigh. "Call me when you can." The six foot four concerned younger brother went to hang up.

Dean looked at his Angel and smiled his eyes laughing. While it would have been easier to let him disconnect the call he knew he needed to give more "Sammy, is everything alright? Did Dad say anything else you aren't telling me?" Sam had stopped wearing the wood down to sawdust and sat in the green chair in the living room. "Its cool Dean, he was Dad. Actually he was nicer than Dad, he understood I was sick with fear and showed me mercy."

The bedridden brother let the chair sitting one talk, "He was the bigger man told me you were alive and then let me go without making me feel like a complete piece of shit." 'Wish I were that lucky.' Dean didn't know where he found the strength to say the words "I told you he is not always a bastard." "Who knew you were always right." They both laughed at Sam's intentional exaggerated emphasis on the word always. "Finally after all these years he realizes what I have told him all along. The words bring a smile to my heart." It felt good to joke with Sam even if it were under the worst circumstances.

"I wish I could say I was sorry for calling him, but I am not. Dean I was just so fucking scared. I knew you wouldn't go that long without calling unless something horrible happened." Dean felt a pain of guilt when his kid brother's voice dropped. "My heart pounded out of my chest as I dialed, but I knew even if Dad yelled at me he would tell me…" The lanky man let the statement fade. His voice returned to the safe ground of joking.

"At least you are have recovered enough from your cup check blow to be recuperating with a woman, doing I don't want to know what, making I don't want to know what kind of sounds." Dean looked at his Angel his eyes went from sorrow to humor. She could hear the earnest words from the worried young man and was chuckling into her shirt, so he couldn't hear her. The recuperating was said with a huge sigh.

"Geek boy, what have I told you about sounds. The more you both make, the better it is." "Dude, that is just wrong." The currently in California Winchester informed his brother. "No Sammy, it's just right. My girl here she knows how to pump and stroke a man." The information was relayed with no small amount of devilish humor. He waggled his eyebrows at the lady in question. She made a very unlady like gesture with her hand, something that resembled pumping and stroking. His Angel was anything but boring.

"Fuck Dean." Sam started to get out. Only to have Dean quickly retort, "Was kinda trying to little brother, then I saw the light on my phone flashing and realized you called. You know that I will always put you first. Am sorry dude, I should have called earlier it has just been a rough week. It won't happen again, first call Sammy then pass out from pain and delirium." Dean knew Sam was staring at the phone he figured the shit might get one more jab to his relief though he let it go, "get back to your woman big brother. Call me when you come up for air." They both laughed. "Night, Sam." "Night, Dean."

"Teasing him is so much fun," the bedridden man looked at his Angel his eyes sparkling with humor. "I like how you manipulated the truth. Sounds were made. Stroking and pumping did occur. You have been holed up in bed for a while and thank you for the compliment, sweet piece of ass." Angel stopped and took a sip of her drink. "So you told him about sounds?" She was teasing him. "What did you tell him?" "Go right ahead and laugh sweetheart." Dean shifted himself a little.

"We were in Big Timber, Montana." He started the story in a serious voice. His Angel laughed. What was funny about saying we were in Big Timber, Montana? Dean inclined his head silently asking 'what the hell?' She replied with air quotes and another chuckle. "Big Timber?" Dean looked at her eyes not moving, instead of shuttering at the glare she kept on laughing.

"Oh come on Kansas, you are talking about moaning and groaning and the place in called Big Timber." He hazel eyes continued to bore into her. "Why are you so upset? I already know your tree in big." That was the statement that did it. The abashed warrior groaned. "Seeing moaning and groaning and Big Timber it all goes together." Her eyes were twinkling, her face flushed from laughing. He joined in the mirth and banter. "Angel I think I could love you. My tree... Mr. Wiggly thanks you for your compliment."

As serious as she could, which wasn't all that serious she looked at his crotch, "You are welcome Mr. Wiggly. Big Timber Wiggly, a grand name, for a grand…" Dean groaned again before his caretaker could finish. Then as if to put an exclamation point on the situation, sighed real big and completely over done. Smugly she said, "Me little ole me succeeded in getting two groans and a sigh out of the great Dean Winchester, without even touching him, my job here is done."

Lifting an eyebrow he smiled. 'Uh oh.' She didn't like the look of that smile. 'Good' he thought, 'sweetheart you want to play with Big Timber, he is gonna play back.' "One day Angel. You and me." He gave her a look that left nothing to the imagination. "So you were in Montana?" Evading his statement, she didn't strike him as a chicken, far from it. 'All right sweetheart,' he would let it go for now.

"We were staying at some crap hole hotel. When we were that young, Dad usually found nicer places, but this was an emergency." The twenty six year olds eyes looked past her. "Stay with your brother Dean." The stay with your brother part was done in a passable John Winchester impression and said with a deep sigh. Stay with your brother Dean, was something he had heard millions of times.

"Sam was six, well almost seven and I was eleven." He shifted trying to find a comfortable spot. "You were the knowledgeable older brother?" She asked taking his vitals while she did. "Damn skippy." The knowledgeable older brother replied the Winchester grin appearing.

April 21, 1989/June 1, 2005Big Timber, Montana/Lone Star, Kansas

"Sammy and I were discussing Dad's recent injury, actually I was reassuring him that he was going to live. He remembered the quiver in Sam's chin when he asked. "Dean, is Dad's arm going to fall off?" His Angel questioned him about the branch with a turn of her head. "Dad had been helping Pastor Jim, nothing supernaturally related." He closed his eyes, his smile sad.

"It was nice no things that go bump in the night for a whole week. The old man had been helping him repair a rafter in the ceiling of the church basement. A part of it came lose and went threw Dad's arm." Dean looked at her and motioned to himself. "Injuries being nothing new to the Winchester boys, Mr. Tough Guy continued working, laughing it off. He let it go a little too long. It turned green and Pastor Jim had to cauterize it."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck then grimaced it brought back another memory, sitting outside that nice house in Ardmore, South Dakota listening to Sam's phone calls and the specifically chosen songs. He was curious what the song track to 'this situation' as she called it would be? Closing his eyes at the flash of brothers then, then and now he took a calming second and continued. His Angel silently wondered what he had just been thinking about. It wasn't Big Timer that's for sure.

"Little Sammy had never really watched Dad being patched up. He always made sure Sam was in another room, didn't want him traumatized before he needed to be. This time though, the kid watched the whole process." Dean's eyes were back at the event. The girl listening questioned John telepathically why it was okay for Dean to watch and help with the process and not Sam. She answered herself, not waiting for the response that wouldn't come. Because he needed someone and his older son's capacity to understand, to filter life's challenges were greater than any mere mortal.

"Dean is he going to die?" A not seven yet Sam asked his older brother. The listener knew better than to try and answer, the little one in front of him usually asked questions in groups. "It looks like raw hamburger meat. What are we going to do?" The pipsqueak stared at him eyes full of a gambit of emotions. "Are you tall enough to take care of us?" Dean sighed even at his age he knew he could take care of them. Hell he did it now anyhow only thing that would change is he would have to figure out how to earn money.

Hoping to ease the pain that had taken up residence on his all ready ravaged face his Angel attempted humor. "Tall enough? When did you have your growth spurt?" Her lips were curved in a kind smile. Dean was wise to her tactics. "Ms. Carney, it is not my fault, Sam is the goliath of the family." He paused for a second, "well maybe it is, I don't know...Sam was always a small kid, I made sure he got an extra helping of everything."

His Angel's smile was sad now. "You are good man Kansas, you family is lucky to have you." Dean looked away knowing she was right and not wanting to face the emotional side of all that had happened yet. One word to Sam on the phone and he would have been on the next plane. For the next half hour his mind went between present day and the past.

"Anyhow we were at the dive in the middle of tall trees. Dad actually would have left us with Jim, but he had a conference in Wisconsin. So here I was in the middle of nowheresville explaining injuries and severities to Sam. In the middle of my you got stages of injuries speech the people next store went at it. Not just a roll in the hay, but hard core fucking. Poor Sam, he was scared." His Angel smiled inside at least they were past the whole sorry about the cursing thing. Breaking Dean took a sip from the water glass. He could feel his body gearing up for another purge.

"Dean what is happening?" The still six year old asked his voice taking on the cadence of someone unsure of their surroundings. "Is that lady okay? Do you need to save her?" He looked his brother in the eye. Dean swallowed at the pure trust in his little brother's face. To him his bestest brother could do anything.

They both laughed at the rescuing question. The caregiver could tell Dean was pacing himself, sip of water, deep breaths. "Sammy, remember how I told you girls they don't always…" Stopping the man of a thousand bruises looked at his Florence Nightingale.

"Before I continue, please understand, almost but not yet seven and eleven. Not that in my experience it isn't true today, just please don't take it personally." His Angel nodded in the affirmative; he was trying to be respectful. "Girls well they don't always say and do and mean all the same things. Meaning she is screaming because she is happy not scared, that is why she is making those ah, grunting sounds."

Current day Dean was taking more deep breaths. His Angel moved the orange chair and sat next to him on the bed. "Ms. Carney, I do believe another spell is coming. My stomach feels like it is going to rip apart." She rubbed his tummy. The last time some did that he was five he went with his Dad to his mom's grave and couldn't stop crying. He put a gentle hand on hers, "Mary, thank you for bringing me comfort." She cocked her head at the use of her given name. "There are times we all need comfort, Dean."

"So she was screaming because she was happy." The lady currently trying to sooth an upset stomach prompted him to continue. She was trying to keep his mind off the impending hoark fest. "She was screaming cause he was banging her brains out. But I couldn't exactly say that to Sam. Not that at that age I understood it either."

He actually looked sheepish when he said that. "I just knew what they were doing, the mechanics, not really the why or how." Looking beyond chagrined now he continued. "Contrary to popular belief, the great Dean Winchester wasn't born knowing how to pleasure the fairer sex."

June 1, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

Stopping her ministrations for a second the auburn haired lady exclaimed. "Oh no, the myth is shattered. What am I to do? Dean Winchester was not born omnipotent about woman. It's a crying damn shame." In an entirely different manner than he had moments earlier Dean put one of his big hands over the one she was using to sooth his stomach. "Doesn't mean I don't know how to now." Her body went from being semi relaxed to guarded. She moved her hand from underneath his. Then gently getting off the bed she said, "I'll be right back." Dean watched her go. He hit a nerve, didn't mean to. But he did and a big one, she actually looked spooked.

When she came back in she had towels. Bending down his Angel lined the floor with them. Then she resumed her place on the corpulent coffin and continued her circular motions on his battered tummy. "Angel, I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you." She smiled at him. "Kansas, its alright you were just being you. You are a consummate flirt I'll get used to it, we are cool." He fucked up, he just knew it.

"So, you explained the birds and the bees to your brother?" She gave him a lead in to keep talking. Not wanting to disappoint her, he continued on "That I did, never stopped. Kids a little slow in that department. Not my fault I got all the talent." This was said with such seasoned bravado the lady listening couldn't stifle the laugh that escaped her. The story teller put his hands up in a what am I supposed to do about it gesture. "At the risk of embarrassing both Sammy and I, the day he had his first 'male' reaction to a girl was hilarious..."

Dean reached for the water, he took a small sip. Resting his head back he went on. "Every major event in Sam's life till he went to college I had to explain to him. Even then he still calls, Dean what's this mean? Oh he will bury it in a conversation, but I raised him, I know when he is looking for an answer on something." The tummy rubber smiled, she could tell he took pride in being a good older brother. Nothing was more important to him than the dark haired twenty two year old. She had no doubt that he would stand in front of a bullet for the kid, be it a verbal or real one.

The tremors were starting. His body was shaking, worse than the old Chevy truck on a back road. Dean could feel the bile rising. His Angel helped him move. She picked up the bowl, placed it softly on his scraped knees. "Thanks." Dean said as he clasped his hands on the bowl, and proceeded to fill it. Angel went from rubbing his stomach to his lower back, ever careful not to come in contact with his assaulted and still swollen kidney.

June 2, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

Many hours, buckets and towels later the latest round of Dean versus wanting to die was complete. The embattled man was sleeping a deep sleep. Finally Mary thought. Both his body and mind needed the break. Truth be told, so did she. For the better part of the last week, she had maybe ten hours sleep, and that was here and there. With Dean sleeping as soundly as he was, she could make an attempt to follow suit. The nurse maid pulled up the chair close to the bed just in case. Then she closed her eyes and willed herself into the land of slumber.

Several rest filled hours later that is how Dean awoke to find her totally zonked. Her knees were curled up, head resting upon them. He smiled. The two of them must have passed out. Her hair was down. It was long, almost to her waist and beautiful. Though it wasn't brown as he first thought it was more a smattering of reds. She must have felt him watching her, because she looked up. The sweet vestiges of sleep were still evident on her face. "It's okay Angel. I just woke up myself." Dean didn't want to ruin the moment, it felt almost normal.

Smiling at him she stretched. Watching her the battle scared hunter felt slightly envious, would that he could move like that. "Good for us, we needed the rest. Sleep is the body's way of healing itself." He mock grimaced then replied in true cocky Dean Winchester fashion, "Sweetheart I got gypped then, cause I am still all the colors of the rainbow."

She looked at him indulgently. "Yes maybe a little. But the deep lines in your face are residing. That's an excellent sign." Dean gingerly and with great care touched his face. "The swelling feels as if it is coming down." Mary brought her hand up and with a gentle hand traced the path his had just taken. "I agree your face is looking more and more handsome with each passing second."

Before he could stop himself he said, "Thank for such a kind compliment Madame." She raised her eyes at his sentiment then she frowned. His Angel frowning could not be a good thing. "Would you mind if I checked the stitches?" Dean swallowed, gulped rather and said in a not so confident voice. "Anything for you Angel, anything for you."

She erupted into laughter. He turned his head in a what the hell manner at her guffawing. Here he was trying to be serious and allow her to check his damned stitches as much as the damn thought scared him and she was chuckling. 'Women.' Instead of saying what he was thinking he went with "Angel?"

"Kansas, I am not taking you out back and beating you. There has been enough of that. I just want to check your stitches. If you gulped any louder Sam might here you in California. He half laughed. "Okay, maybe I am a little pathetic." She didn't ever want to hear those words come out of his mouth. "Not pathetic, just wary." She gave him a pointed look. He sent one back. "Have I hurt you yet?" His Angel questioned him sincerity in her voice. "No Mary you haven't." Dean answered with equal frankness.

With as close to an affirmative as she was going to get, the healing wounds were examined and then cleaned. Dean tried not to flinch as his own personal nurse washed the area around the thread. The battle was touch and go there, but determined male strength won out in the end. "You can release the breath you have been holding Kansas." Or did it?

With a glint in her brown eyes, one Dean didn't quite know what to make of his Angel asked "How do you feel about washing off? Think you might be up to it?" His face fell a little, "Is there your round about way of inferring I stink, Angel?" She watched his reaction he was ashamed, oh my poor Kansas she thought. One day you will heal. Not soon she imagined, but one day.

Until then she would do what she could "Why Kansas, why would I infer that? I just thought that after turning your insides out and finally succumbing to a good night's rest you might want to freshen up." The glint was still there but strangely he didn't feel as bad about it now. She cared and more importantly she hadn't left him.

"Angel, has anyone every told you diplomacy is one of your best assets?" Dean asked with a little jocosity in his voice, it was one of her traits, in the short time the spent together he had scene the savior faire in action. "Yes, why do you think my employer hired me?" Her expression changed from ambassadorial to one he could only describe as feminine wiles. "Although, if you want to know a little secret." She lowered her voice. "There are times when political correctness goes out the window and the bitchy female comes to the surface."

Dean shook his head no, "I don't believe it." Her face changed from jesting to harden stone, kinda like a gargoyle. Not that he would let her in on his observation woman can be touchy about those things. He found the change fascinating, he absentmindedly wondered how many expressions his Angel had and if he would get to see them all.

The lady in question stared him straight in his hazel eyes so he would know she wasn't kidding around, "After you and your father discuss what he has done to you. You ask him what I did to him. I am damn lucky he didn't say anything to the man else I would have been caned. Though at that point it would have been worth it, one doesn't, and I am sure you can agree with me on this, get to see the almighty John Winchester speechless." The son of the not so almighty man in question chuckled and nodded his head yes.

"Why would you loose your job?" Dean asked, thinking whatever she said or did to his fuck head father, he probably had it coming. "Insulting or harming a Winchester would be tantamount to treason. Treason is not an offense taken lightly." Dean wondered and not for the first time who her employer was and how this person was connected to their family. He kept quiet though. He knew as sure as the moon would go down that night, Angel wouldn't tell him jack about her employer before it was time.

Instead he answered her earlier questions with a slightly cocky grin and matching intonation, "Washing sounds heavenly to me. Are you going to sponge me down or are we using the shower?" With a teasing grin his Angel warned him "careful Kansas, I could use a bristle brush to scrub you down." Paling at the thought he tried to sound contrite. "I'll be good, I promise." She gave him a look that said 'I doubt that.' "How about a partial shower? If it becomes too much, we will stop and revert back to a sponge."

"I am at your mercy Angel." She laughed and chose the opportunity to bolster his confidence. He needed it. "I bet if you had to, I mean really had to, you could kill something right now. You might collapse right after doing the deed. But you have more strength than you realize."

He cocked his head and went to ask something. She stalled him knowing what he was going to ask, 'yikes the guy could be one tracked.' "Dean, I told you I would not leave. I keep my promises, as best I can. You have my word I will not leave you till you tell me to go." He would hard pressed to admit that time would ever come.

"Thank you, Ms. Carney. I trust your word." He sighed and talked on, better to get it out in the open, not like she didn't know already, he just felt as if he needed to say it. "Sorry, guess I am a little reticent of solemn vows and oaths to protect, never leave and such." The embattled hunter knew his face was turning a nice shade of red. 'Fuck it' he thought. The girl had been witness to him stripped down, physically and emotionally. Why try to hide what he is feeling at least at the moment. Soon he would tough up and get back to being Mr. Anti Chick Flick Shit.

Smiling at him he watched as she stretched and then ran her fingers through her hair and wrapped it up in a knot. "Amazing, how chicks do that." She gave a him a do what look. "Tie your hair in knots." She had to stop and think. "It comes naturally. When you want it out of the way and you have nothing to secure it with, you just twist it around your finger and a few tucks and pulls later. One messy knot." If the messy knot owner had to describe his expression in one word it would be awe. The things that fascinated men.

"All righty then Kansas, what do you say we introduce you to this invention known as the waterfall?" His Angel's voice was full of mischief as she helped dump him out of bed. The half shower was a non stop laugh riot. Ms. Carney let him clean as much of his body as he could handle. Then she helped him wash his hair. 'Oh what a feeling' Dean thought. There is something strangely erotically satisfying about a woman running her fingers through your hair and having your head scratched.

After the water show was complete, the kind woman helped his change into real clothes. Okay, warm up pants, a Black Sabbath tee shirt and black Uggs. Still the clothes made him feel more human than boxers and an old black tee that had scene better days. Dean felt almost normal.

Once he was changed and comfy his own personal body washer went to take a shower herself. Dean being the gentleman that he is offered to repay the helping favor. "Angel, I would be happy to extend an offer of assistance. Soap your back or front or…" She gave him the one finger salute. "That too sweetheart." She closed the door on him. "I'll take that as a no." Dean said to the white washed barrier.

When Angel emerged from the bathroom, she found Dean quietly reading a small book. She cleared her throat, wanting to give him warning, just in case it was personal. Judging by the way he handled it, it was both personal and special. Dean looked up at her, beaming. What ever the treatise was he put it in the rosewood box and closed the lid. What were the tomes she wondered? Mr. Winchester only told her the books would be of great comfort to his son. Hum.

Standing at the foot of the bed with one hand casually on his sheep skinned foot the attaché had an idea. She squeezed the black boot, not to hard, more of what do you think gesture. "Kansas, now that we are squeaky clean and happy with our sartorial choices, what do you say we dine al fresco?" When the state native looked up at her he noticed that she had her eyebrows raised. Issuing a challenge he saw. Dean didn't let her down, he offered one of his trademark smirks and replied, "Sweetheart that sounds just ducky, show me the way."

They sat in a companionable silence enjoying a meal of oatmeal with pear slices. The twenty six year old felt slightly out of place and yet totally at home with experience. His brain was turning a mile a minute. He supposed it was a result of having purged all the drugs in his system. When the last drop in his sunflower adorned bowl had been consumed, Dean turned to his Angel and gently patted his stomach. The same one she had rubbed last night. Pausing he looked away for the second. 'Dude get a fucking grip.' "Angel that was the best oatmeal I have ever had and the pears were as sweet as your smile." She groaned at his coquetting.

He let it go, one day she would take his compliments. Odd but when he gave them to her he found he meant it. "Thank you for suggesting alfresco, it is a beautiful day out." Chuckling she smiled at the drawn out way he said beautiful day. "I figured your stomach should be able to tolerate oatmeal and the peaches, well your Dad said you loved them. As for being outside, we needed some fresh air. That room is small and confining. Wide open spaces, nothing like em. " 'Nothing like em indeed.' He echoed in his mind.

"Angel I've been thinking." Dean started to say. "Did it hurt?" She was joshing him. They really were like two peas in a pod. "You are a saucy one Angel, saucy indeed." Laughing she retorted, "You are feeling better and I didn't want your smart-ass repartee to get rusty." Give her one of his better smirks, "Aside from being cheeky you are a definite one of a kind."

Smirking right back at him she continued sassing, "Brain power in action, the mouse turning the wheel." He good naturedly tossed his napkin at her. She picked it up and placed it on the table they shared. Dean stretched his bruised body as much as he dared and sank back into the wicker chair. The chair was a brown wicker rocker with pillows so plush, he could have been sitting on a cloud.

Giving her a look he hoped conveyed the message, please let me speak Dean rattled his companion with questions. "Angel I have been thinking. How long can I stay here? And for that matter where is here? How long do you think it will take me to heal? What about rehab? When do you have to leave? When it does happen can we keep in touch? Do you know how to get in touch with my Dad?" He stopped and shifted, his back was a little stiff. Then as an after thought he tossed out, "How old are you?"

By the time he got half way through his list the girl deduced the real issue, the one he was most worried about. When she was gone he would have no one. "Kansas, slow down. One question at a time." Feeling a little chagrined he looked down at his hands. It was a gesture he used when he was feeling out of place or being put in his place.

Giving what she hoped was a reassuring look the brown eyed nursemaid knocked out answers to his queries. "You can stay here as long as you need too. In fact if you so desire, you can even make this lovely wood side cabin your permanent home base. Here is Lone Star, Kansas." Before she could respond to the rest of his questions, Dean punched his fist into the pillow. "Bastard. My fucking father has a fucking twisted sense of fucking humor."

Giving him a 'what the hell' look, his Angel went back to answering. Hopefully in time he will explain. "How long do I think you will take to heal? Your bruises a month or so. Your ribs and knee about the same. Well the knee, maybe a little longer. Depends you are a scrapper; you aren't going to let anything keep you down for long. Reaching over she place a hand on his, "Your heart, Dean, I don't know. A long damn time, I would imagine."

She moved her hand, when she placed in back in her lap he noticed for the first time, fuck how had he missed it last night, the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. Hum, nothing but mysteries this chick. "As for rehabbing, we can start getting your sexy body back in fighting shape as soon as you are ready." Dean looked up from his hands at the use of the word we. 'Sexy body, he didn't feel very attractive at the moment.'

"As for me leaving, Dean I gave you my word that I would not leave until you told me to go. That being said am sorta walking the line being here right now. The man hasn't given me the okay, not that he won't." Dean watched as she grimaced and rubbed her hands over her face. 'Shit, both wrists have ink. Dude, you are losing your touch.'

"It might take some persuading and reminding him of the 'Nothing is more important than the health and welling being of the Winchester's. Whatever they need we give them rule he had embossed in my psyche. The Winchester in need chuckled at her explanation. "Not as straight laced as I first thought Angel. Skating the rules? Living on the edge who knew? You just don't seem like the type." The gleam in her eyes made him laugh harder.

"There is a lot you don't know about me Kansas." Sobering his face he looked her in her stilling shimmering brown pools and said, "I intend to remedy that." Reining in her levity his Angel replied with a matching no nonsense tone, "And so you will."

Mary stopped at this point, stood and stretched. Dean watched her arch her back in yoga move. His eyes betrayed what he was thinking. She smiled at him. Sitting back down the now clad in green cargo pants and shamrock adorned tee shirt resumed her responses. The dirty blond watched his Angel as she looked of in the distance. Dean had used this stratagem himself. When you don't want the other person to know what you are thinking, look at the horizon.

"As for keeping in touch, if you are sure that is something you want… I told you, at one point you will see me again and everything will be out in the open. By the time that happens, I can't imagine that you will be happy about it. That said if you still want me on your speed dial. Yes, we can keep in touch. Use the emergency cell phone." Hoping to lighten her up he quipped, "Wow, my own Bat Phone. Totally cool, sweetheart, always wanted my own Bat Phone." She smiled, his childhood was so fucked up and yet the little boy was still in there somewhere.

The stiff necked girl brought her hands up to the back of her head and tried to rub the knots out. Dean studied her wrists hoping to ascertain what the markings were. "Talking to the great Jonathon Dean Winchester, ugg." The man's son couldn't help the laugh that escaped his chapped lips. "As I mentioned before he is concerned about your progress and checks in relentlessly with me."

Letting out a pent up sigh, Dean observed, "dear old Dad can be unyielding in his pursuit of something. Mary laughed, "Really, unyielding you say." They both laughed. Getting back to the topic, the lady with the messy knot came up with a alternative solution to the getting in touch with Dad question.

Yes she could call him and he would answer, but handing the phone over, John had to come to the decision on his own. Okay maybe with help, but still he had to call Dean not the other way around. John had to use the pair she heard were cast iron and make the call. Still she felt for her battered companion, "I might be able to set it up so you can hear him." The young man nodded, "I will take what I can get it."

Before she answered the next question she picked up the bowls and headed to the door. Looking back with a glint he was beginning to recognize she said, "A gentleman never asks a lady her age." As the door closed he heard her say, "I am your senior though."

About five minutes later she emerged from the wood structure with two steaming cups of spiced hot chocolate. Mary handed him a blue sunflower covered cup. 'Blue, maybe there were other colors to.' He was being observed for a reaction, not want to disappoint her Dean waggled his eyebrows and said "Hazelnut Cocoa. Spicing up my life Angel?"

His Angel laughed and replied. "In addition to the fresh air, I thought you might appreciate a little something special. You have been through hell Dean and well..." The girl let the statement fall. He held his cup to her and gave her one of his rare smiles, the kind that held nothing back and could light up a room. Light up the hidden alcoves of her locked behind a reinforced door, soul. Then he ruined the moment.

"Older than me? You carry your age well. Is this your cane? Do you need it back when I am done?" When he was finished with his ribbing he looked at her, trademark smirk as big as day well as big as his stitches would let it be. "Oh hunter boy thinks he is so funny. Laugh, You Nearly Died." She wasn't finished when he countered, "Angel, I love your use of classic rock references."

She smirked back. "Maybe they weren't classic when I listened to them." "Ouch, sweetheart. Didn't mean to infer that your gray hair was starting to show." Verbal sparing with his Angel was fun, she gave as good as she got. Sighing she shook her head. "I bet there were times when over your Dad's knee was something you deserved."

His lowered his head for a second. "Yeah, my mouth has gotten me in trouble on more than one occasion." "Dean, in regards to your father this is not one of those times. In regards to me, yeah Kansas, if I thought you could take it, you would be wearing my handprint right now." He looked at her, respect in his eyes and something else she couldn't name. "Not willing to kick a donkey while he is down?"

"No Kansas, not with all I have done to help you heal." Dean nodded his head, "Thank you Angel." She lowered her head as if to say you are welcome. "You were born in January 1979. I was born in November 1977. So no, smart ass I don't need the cane. Although I reserve the right to beat you over the head with it." She gave him a look that tried to enforce that. The both knew she wouldn't.

"So Angel where do we go from here?" Dean asked the important question in such a small voice she was worried. Delicately she phrased her answer. "I will speak with my employer today and get cleared to stay with you for the duration. After that, a quick sprint into town." His gulp was audible, 'how did he do that? Was it a guy thing?' She winked at him. 'Did she just wink at me,' Dean thought.

"Am going to scare us up stock for the larders. Would offer you the chance of a mini break out, but I kinda need to get some feminine things. Something I am sure you have never shopped for and might be embarrassed to get. Also, need to head to where I am staying and grab my crap." She knew he couldn't make the trip in his condition and was letting him out of it with his male dignity intact. "Girlie stuff. Ugh, no can't say that I have. One thing about living with two other men, no chick shit. Unless you count that horrible aftershave that Sam favors." He covered keeping up with her.

"Woman prefer natural scent of a man over that froufrou over the counter crap. Poor Sam he must not be strong enough to exude anything." Dean flat out laughed at that. If Sam ever heard her. Ha. And double ha for good measure. "Could not agree with you more sweetheart. My kid brother is the coolest brother extraordinaire on the planet, just not as manly as me." She patted her hand on his arm. He meant that about Sam. He was the coolest brother extraordinaire. The Winchester Boys, them against the world.

Before she could say anything else her phone rang. As soon as she checked the caller id, the twenty seven year old sighed a bone weary sigh. Dean grabbed her free hand and gave a reassuring squeeze, mouthing the words it's alright. She smiled at him much like she had last night as Free had been crooning. Then the walls in her face came up and with calming breath she answered.

"Sir." "Bella, where the hell are you?" That was all Dean heard before she walked out of earshot. 'Bella?' Hum she wouldn't intentionally lie to him he knew that, especially with a thing like her name. Mary. He studied her side of the conversation. She was tense her shoulders were set her body resembled that of the local Populus Deltoides behind her.

Sammy was wrong he did pay attention in his classes. Although most of his nature related knowledge came from his grandmother. If you are going to live on the land respect it, it will respect you. Dean kept his eyes moving between his Angel and the Cottonwood behind her, Cottonwood, the State Tree for good ole Kansas. They were still in fucking Kansas. Fuck John Winchester.

His Angel looked up to the heavens and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she spoke sharply into the phone, and threw her free hand up. Then she said nothing for what seemed like eternity, in reality he guesstimated forty or so seconds. Then a terse response, Dean didn't need to hear it to know. Slowly she closed the phone.

His defender put the really impressive looking contraption back in her pocket. What the hell kind of phone was that? Then the five foot eight girl she took a composing breath and walked toward him. "That looked fun." The normally funny man commented hoping to break the tension still so obvious in her taut frame. Mission accomplished, a small laugh followed by a sigh. But still there was a chuckle and that was key.

The hunter raised his eyebrows thinking the action would compel her to continue, no such luck. She closed her eyes and rubbed the back of her neck. 'Be a man about it Dean.' He said this about ten times in his head before he could actually form the words to ask. "What did he say? And why did he call you Bella?" The first question didn't garner any response, the second though. Wow, her eyes could blaze like a forest fire. "You listened?" Mary voice was strained, her eyes still raging at him. Deciding that complete truth was the best course. "I heard an older male voice say Bella, where the hell are you?" Dean brought his eyes to hers, "He did kinda yell it."

Sighing again, she took a sip of her cooled Hazelnut beverage. "Sorry Kansas am just a little on edge." He chuckled. "No, really. I had not noticed. On edge you say?" Thinking she would snap at him for being a smart mouth he was surprised when she didn't.

"Thank you for trying to defuse my emotions. My employer calls me Bella because well it's a long story. Most everyone related to the…" she stopped, "my job calls me Bella." Dean swallowed the hurt she had just censored him. One day his Angel would know she could trust him. Until then he had to roll with it. "My friends Sarah, Kate and Landon are the only ones who don't."

"Will I get to hear the story?" Dean asked hoping he would he liked and respected Ms. Carney. He knew that argument was over him and she fought for him, never backed down. "One day if you are good and eat all your peas." She was joking with him, his father must have told her he hated peas. "What did he say? Can you stay?" He hated sounding weak, but he still wasn't ready to be alone. When you are alone the demons come. The ones in your mind, the kind you can't stop.

"Yes, Kansas. You are stuck with me now. I am with you till you tell me to go. The man wasn't happy about it, but I reminded him of the whole, Nothing is more important than the health and well being of the Winchesters, what ever they need we give them spiel. Dean said he needed me to help him get back on his feet and we can't have one of the all mighty Winchester hunters out of commission to long."

The hunter in question stood up, slowly but he wanted be on a level playing field for his reply. He took her hand, "Mary thank you for fighting for me. I find myself humbled." To his astonishment his Angel's eyes grew watery and before he could say anything, one big fat tear rolled down her still bruised cheek. He brought a thumb up to her face and traced under her eye. Then touched a finger to her nose.

Uncomfortable with the emotional displays the caregiver wrinkled her recently taped nose. Still she found herself unwilling to say anything smart to him. "You are welcome Dean." Then out of nowhere she reached her hand up and touched her finger to his nose. He closed his eyes the sentiment was overwhelming.

When he opened them he got a glimpse of the tattoo on her wrist before she moved her hand. It was a very gothic looking rose. Dean shifted his maligned body, hoping to find a comfortable position. "Angel can I ask you a personal question." His Angel nodded. "How much ink do you have?" Whatever she had been expecting that wasn't it. It took her a moment to register what he was asking. When her head turned to side, the injured Winchester softly touched the inside of her wrist.

"Tattoos you want to know how many tattoos I have?" He nodded. "Four." Dean let out a whistle. She smiled. "One on each wrist, one on my neck and one at the base of my back." "Sweetheart you got rocks that must have hurt like a bitch." The girl who apparently had rocks laughed at his half statement half query. His Angel held her wrists up and open to him so they could be inspected.

The gothic rose was very detailed he could see the shadow lines in the leaves, the shadings of red. On her other wrist she had a dancing skeleton. He cocked an eyebrow. "One day Kansas, one day I will explain." Dean lowered the eyebrow. "Fair enough."

Then she slowly turned around. Something inside him turned with her. The feeling was foreign to him. Here was a girl who obviously lived in their world and she just paid him the ultimate of compliments. You never turn your back, not unless you trust the other person with your life.

She rested her hands on the railing in front of her and lowered her head. Dean brought a shaking hand to her neck, tracing the design with his calloused fingers. "A sigil?" No censure in his voice, just genuine curiosity. With her head still bent she replied, "Yes. Protection is something you can never have enough of."

He rested his hand on her neck. Dean could feel her body warming to his touch. Sometimes your body reacts without your minds permission. He smiled then ran his hand slowly and methodically down her back. He knew she thought he intended to inspect the last remaining tattoo. "One day Angel, but not today." She released a breath she didn't know she had been holding. The normally brash warrior knew he made a prudent choice.

His Angel lifted her head. Dean shuffled a step closer and to his amazement she leaned back into him. He rested his chin on her head. They stayed like that for quite a while, enjoying the serenity around them. When the separated they both sighed. Content sighs. The twenty seven year old turned to face her charge, phrasing her question delicately she said, "Kansas before I head out, can I play nurse? Check your ribs and your back?" Your back was said in a quiet voice. He knew it was out of respect for the degrading insult his father had paid him.

"I can deal with the fact he pummeled me to the other side of hell. But to insult me by whipping me with his belt... Do you know I can count the number of times he has taken the strap to me? It's a very small number." My Dad abhors corporal punishment it makes him sick. Probably cause his old man used to beat the crap of him for sport."

The currently with a welted back Winchester continued. "Not that if we earned it he wouldn't bend us over a knee. When he did it was long and hard. Dad told us if we broke a rule that warranted a punishment of that nature than a memorable one it would be. That way we wouldn't disrespect his orders again."

Dean absently brought a hand to his check. "As I said earlier, my mouth has gotten me in trouble on more than one occasion. When river flowed with words it wasn't supposed to a quick backhand and a stern talking too, that was it. Even then I can count the times and they were miniscule. He had other ways of making us fall in line, equally as torturous, but they didn't leave any scars you could see…"

Not for the first time since the whole barn incident did Mary think fuck John Winchester. 'Sometimes the scars you don't see cause more damage.' With guys though, it was all about the façade they presented to the outside world. Gotta be Mr. Tough Guy...

Trying to make him feel better and understand she ventured an explanation, "he wanted to emasculate you and make you hate him. It was more a punishment for him, than it was you." 'Girl was way too smart.' "I know Angel and I don't hate him. Miss him, but hate him no…" Dean's voice faded out as he focus on the cottonwood trees in front of him.

When he brought his gaze back to her chick flick time was over. She could tell by the smirk dawning on his face. "You want me to strip here?" "May the Angels in heaven show mercy on your soul. Your defense tactics can be exhausting." The man laughed in spite of the fact what she said was true. "That's not all that is exhausting about me." He waggled his eyes.

Whatever her reply was it was way to under her breath for Dean to catch. That was probably a good thing. Ever so gently she eased his shirt up. He could feel her hands shaking. The Winchester with the welted back felt strangely comforted with the fact the shaking was in anger at his father, not because she felt sorry for him. His Angel had showed him no pity, only compassion.

"You'll live." Came her caustic reply. "A couple of hours that is all I will be gone. You call the second you don't feel right. Promise me." She was all business. "You have my word Angel." Smiling at him, "That is good enough for me." She trusted him, she turned her back to him and she was accepting his word as his bond.

Her voice dropped into an exaggeratedly exasperated tone, "Please be careful with whatever you do while you are alone and left to your own devices." Then out of nowhere she reached up and kissed his battered cheek. "Yes, Mamm." He could feel himself blushing. A kiss, no not a romantic one, just one meant to bring him peace. It did.

When his Angel turned and entered the house Dean sat back down in the chair. He stayed outside for the better part of an hour enjoying the cool breeze, sipping his hazelnut chocolate drink. His Angel was a special person. Along with helping him complete extremely personal tasks, she was helping him to maintain and rebuild his dignity. A slow road and process. But one he knew she would make with him. Dean drained the contents of his mug then slowly lifted himself out of the wicker rocker. He had things to do before she returned.

A little less than two hours later Dean heard a vehicle pull up out front. Years of caution made him check the window. Sweetheart drove a beat up Chevy truck similar to his dad's, hers was maybe a little older but no less imposing. The plates were hidden by an enormous amount of mud. As she pulled in she gave him a look that said, 'what are you doing up?'

He watched her shift the truck into first gear, shut off the ignition and set the brake. She opened her door and grabbed bags off the front seat. Then she walked around the back of the Chevy and headed towards the cabin. Dean opened the door for her, attempting to be chivalrous. His Dad had tried to instill some gentlemanly traits in his boys.

"Thanks Kansas." She walked into the kitchen and put the bags on a chair. "Something looks different." Dean smiled to himself. His Dad didn't call him a domestic for nothing. It was the one thing his father and Sam agreed on. Dean was a homemaker. They didn't know he knew that's what they said. If they bonded over him so be it. Let them have something.

"The table has a runner and flowers. The counters have been spic and spanned." She gave him a strange look. 'What did that mean?' Before he could think of an appropriate retort that would assist him in finding out she turned. His Angel inspected the rest of the house. "Throws folded and creased in the living room. No laundry in the hamper. Clean sheets and duvet cover on the bed. Dean C. Winchester, man of many talents?" Angel said as came back into the kitchen.

He howled, from the depths of his soul. "Sweetheart if you only knew." He put a hand up before she could sass him. "Growing up I took care of the household. Guess old habits are hard to break." 'Was he blushing? Wow.'

"What did you get?" His child like enthusiasm was endearing. "Household items and such." He looked downcast. Her eyes twinkling with mirth "and maybe a present or two." Dean clapped his hands together. "Presents." His face was glowing. Absently she wondered how many people he let his guard down with. She imagined the number was a very small one.

Crap in addition to a beaming face he was also sweating. He had over worked his body. "Kansas, why don't you have a seat on the couch? I will bring the goodies over as soon as I store my girlie stuff." He crinkled his nose. "Come on you don't want to help me put that away do you?" Knowing there was more to it the 'domestic' took the hint. "Girlie stuff, ugh, going to living room now."

The going was slow but Dean headed to the living room, intending to sit on the couch as she asked, really he did. Then he heard her in the bathroom storing the feminine things. 'Feminine things, the fact that he was even thinking about that shit made him shudder. His curiosity got the best of him. Instead of heading to nice leather recliner he veered off and went back to the front window. He looked out just as he had earlier. Only this time his was focus on the truck for different reasons.

You could beat the crap out of a Winchester, but he would always be a Winchester. 'Know your surroundings Dean you never know when it will come in handy.' Did she obscure the license plate on purpose? As if she knew what he was thinking she commented, "You don't remember it was raining that night?" 'Oh shit, busted. How had she snuck up on him?' "If you think you can make it out there without passing out, by all means go for it. If however, you collapse in the process, I will leave you out there."

She was upset. He might even go so far as to say pissed. Judging by the adamantine look on her face she would leave him out there. "Angel I didn't mean." She cut him off. "Stuff it Dean. Natural Winchester distrust, didn't expect it from you. I am disappointed." Before he could offer a reply or supporting evidence to the contrary, she walked out.

The newly returned caretaker left the door open, so he could observe. She didn't want him to think she was keeping anything from him. 'You fucked up dude.' He watched her walk over to the garden hose and fill up the bucket in front of it. 'Another sunflower, crimney didn't Kansas have enough? What was with the theme?'

Without sloshing a drop his Angel carried the water jug over to the old pick up. 'How did she do that, not spill any?' When she made it over to the plate she dumped the water. He watched the action, with each drop that dripped of her tailgate he felt more and more ashamed. All though it was the car she was cleaning, it was he who felt dirty.

"Angel, please I am sorry." He limped out to her. "Please, I am very sorry." Spurning his apology she took a rag out of the back of the truck and wiped off the plate. She made sure every speck of dirt was gone that the information he was seeking was unobstructed. Then she opened his palm, gently even though she was pissered off and put the muddy cloth in it.

"Mary, please." The use of her given name stopped her. She looked at him. "I have not lied to you. Have explained that there are certain things I can't tell you. Dean, I have to trust you. You are a smart boy you could track me down before its time." He fucked up, big time and he knew it. Don't try to hide it, tell her the truth, all of it. "Mary, please don't leave." The don't leave was almost chocked out. "I told you Mr. Winchester I would not leave. I gave you my word. A word is a promise and I never break promises. I also told you I would answer everything I am able to. If you do not trust me, there is nothing I can do." 'Mr. Winchester, oh hell.'

Something inside him snapped. "You know what sweetheart, leave me. Everyone else does." He turned around and limped back into the cabin. Not as dramatic as he would have liked but fuck she was going to leave anyhow. Just as he stepped in the dwelling her heard say. "I will never leave you." 'Yeah right,' he wiped a tear that had the nerve to leave his eye away, 'everyone left him.'

Dean slowly made his way back into the bedroom, found the keys to his baby. The knee brace wearer teetered out of the house, breathing labored. That girl, she wasn't no Angel, was washing the rest of the truck. 'Had it rained that night?' He vaguely recalled raindrops hitting the barn roof. Summer storms were common in the Midwest and Missouri was famous for weather changes. He could not believe his jackass father put him back in fucking Kansas. Dean could even understand lashing him with a belt. But Kansas, just knowing he was in the state was driving him mad.

The emotionally tempestuous twenty six year old could feel her eyes on him. 'Go ahead sweetheart watch me. Ain't nothing wrong with my ass.' By the time Dean made it to his sweet Chevy the world was spinning. The classic rock aficionado started humming a song, King of Pain by **Police**.

…There's a little black spot on the sun today… I have stood here before inside the pouring rain…With the world turning circles running 'round my brain…I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign…But it's my destiny to be the king of pain… I'll always be king of pain... Check that the world wasn't turning circles round his brain. Kansas, fucking Kansas was.

Steadying himself Dean opened the trunk of his beloved Impala. In the bottom left hand corner beneath his weapons cache was his private box. He Dad assumed everything special was in his rosewood box. Dean let the myth stand. No, he kept the stories in there. They might be personal but if his Dad ever decided to look he would have just laughed at the never ending legacy that was Amos and Craven. Here in a populus deltodies engraved chest that belonged to his Grandmother was where he stored his memories. Dean missed his grandma she was a strong woman who didn't put up with his fathers crap. He remembered overhearing her say to his Dad.

December 21, 1983Centropolis, Kansas

"Jonathon, I know you are grieving for Mary, but your boys need you. Don't ever make them feel unloved, like you did. Remember to hug them and tuck them in. Most importantly tell them you love them. Rose Winchester's son attempted to say something. "Don't you sass at me in anger. You know I am right." The despondent husband ran his hands through his hair. "Yes, mom I know."

Seeing that she might just get through the misery and despair that clung to her son like a second skin the concerned mother continued. "Have you watched the way Dean's been holding Sam? He needs a connection to him it is as if he lost both his parents in one night. Go talk to your son, tell him you love him and you are not going to leave him." Present day Dean didn't think he would mind if his Dad showed up right then and told him he loved him and wasn't going to leave him.

June 2, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

He placed a shaking hand on the wooden container. Dean's mind focused on the woman who gave the worlds greatest hugs and instilled in him a great regard for the land. 'Respect it and it will respect you.' His whole life was in this box with a carved Helianthus Annuus or the sunflower, Kansas's State Flower. Everything he held dear, except for Sammy. If he could have fit him in the box he would have. Shit, Kansas was still spinning. Dean forced his breathing back to a semi normal rhythm or as close as he was going to. Then with determination in his limp, he inched his way back.

By the time that girl came into sight spots were dancing in front of his eyes. He was almost dragging himself. 'Help he didn't need no stinking help.' Male bravado would carry him to bed. Walking up to him his Angel no not his anymore everyone leaves him, slowly took the box from under his arm.

'Bloody hell the box must weight thirty pounds. What was in it?' The owner of the now clean 1971 Chevy truck though. The feral look in Dean's eyes told the contents were of the utmost importance. The warning they issued said, 'fuck off.' Her eyes told him message received, 'dumb ass.'

She put her soft hand on his contused cheek. Oh hell, he was burning up and not from the fact he was so handsome he could set the world on fire. 'Why did he have to be so stubborn? Why did she have to let his cautiousness wound her?' Silas told her she wasn't supposed to have feelings she was supposed to be an automation. Or at least not show that she let anything get to her, normally that wasn't a problem. There were times though.

He jerked at her touch. Mary continued to take his vitals ignoring his ridiculous show on brawn. The feverish man watched as worry flooded her face. 'Fuck her,' Dean thought. With all the strength he had left he roughly pushed her hand a way. She flinched but held her ground. Once the task of taking his stats was complete she sighed. Then spun around on her flip flop cover feet and walked into the house with his lead weight box.

He watched helplessly as the only happy portals to his past walked out of his sight. When she came back out, empty handed, Dean had made it a whole five steps. Wordlessly she put herself under his free arm and helped him into the cabin. It was slow going but they made it. The hunter was so worn out he really used her as a crutch. The girl never complained about the extra weight and as she pointed out in her letter, he wasn't a light weight.

His Angel, no not his, well maybe his… helped him down the hall to the bedroom. Through the open entryway his eyes focused on the sunflower covered tray, she had made him dinner. When they made it to the doorframe he leaned heavily into the wood bracing him self, while she pulled the covers back. Then none to gently she dumped him onto that heavenly pillow top mattress.

Still not ready to talk to him the brown eyed girl glanced at the tray Dean followed her path. Two Tylenol where sitting next to a glass of water. Once he swallowed the pills she turned and left him. 'Oh to Hell in a hand basket.' Dean knew he needed to mend the situation. Why do woman have to be so, frustrating and emotional. Dean let out a sigh who was he kidding. He was just as emotional, if not more. Every man has a breaking point.

He heard her phone ring. 'This is it she is going to leave me.' He could feel tears stinging the back of his eyes. "Auggie I am so glad it is you." Pause. "I miss you too. Loads and loads." Then a frustrated sigh and another pause. "No, young Mr. Winchester has been quite the gentleman." Laugh. Pause. "Of course, he is Dean Winchester. But no, I don't really fit the bill. Besides, I don't think he could get the job done at this point." Pause. Laughing. Pause. "Flipping signposts." Long Pause.

"What the fuck, sorry Auggie, what the flying bricks…" 'Flying bricks?' "Does he expect, his father beat him into a coma. Auggie, I thought there would be another Winchester gravestone. He coughed up so much blood. His urine ran with it for days." Jackass, heavy on the ass part Dean thought, that's what I am. She cared she fought for him still even with his being the worlds largest jerk. He let her down and she brandished a verbal sword and continued to champion him.

Another long pause. "I don't know Aug, I don't know. I promised him I would not leave until he told me he was ready. You are well aware I keep my promises." Short pause. "How's my boy? Does he miss me?" Very long pause, with quite a bit of snickering. "Owen did what?" Pause. "Kiss him good night for me." Pause. "Love you too."

She had a boy? Well, of course she did. Why did that make him feel infinitely worse than he had before her phone conversation? Auggie and Owen. She didn't wear a wedding band. That might explain her reaction to his physical flirting.

'Oh fuck. I am the biggest creation in the world.' "I promised him I would not leave until he told me he was ready. You are well aware I keep my promises." His Angel, yes his, was going to stay with him despite his retched actions. She really was an Angel. He didn't want to stay with him.

The seraph came to check on him about an hour later. 'He had that heavy ass box on his lap. What is blue corn blazes was in there?' "Is your body feeling better? Do you need anything?" Her voice flat as she asked. 'Yep Dean my boy, you fuckered up.' The twenty six year old couldn't bring him self to look at her. Instead he kept his eyes focused on his hands. "No, thank you for asking, my body is returning to, well as normal as possible." He replied with a mirthless laugh.

The caretaker did a quick once over of his person, satisfied she took the tray and left. Maybe a half hour had ticked away when she returned with a peace offering in one hand, white napkin in the other. Silently she waved the napkin. He chocked out a laugh. She was waving a white flag. He should have been the one to do that. Dean watched silently as his Angel set down cloud covered cups.

'Clouds? What happened to the sunflowers?' The bruised man on the plush bed pondered the conundrum with great interest. The barefoot auburn haired woman went to move the chair; Dean stilled her with a touch of his hand. Then he and his box scooted over. 'Big Timer, Montana' she thought, where did he find the strength to lift it?

Taking the wordless invitation she sank down next to him on the comfy surface. "You know, I could get used to this pillow top thing." Dean laughed at her attempt to ease the tension. He picked up her hand "Mary," with a deep and apparently by the look she gave him audible breath, "I was a complete ass today. There is no excuse. Please forgive me."

She squeezed his hand and not releasing her grip. "Dean, I was a complete bitch today. There is no excuse. Please forgive me." He squeezed back and held it. They both looked at each other their respective expressions so serious. Then they both cracked up. The nursemaid floated the cloud cup to him.

"Ah Beauty and the Beast, don't we make a pair? But if anyone else calls you a Beast, I'll rip his lungs out." Her eyes were twinkling. "Angel, your humor never ceases to amaze me." Dean took a sip of his cocoa. "How hard would it be rip someone's lungs out?" She smiled so sweet. "Twisted sweetheart, you are twisted. Love it." Her sardonic look said it all.

Handing the tumbler back, Dean placed his hands on his Cottonwood box. Sensing a change in atmosphere, Angel set the sky scene covered chalices down and shifted so she was looking at him. "Angel, at the risk of ruining our new found truce." She gave a deep, exaggerated sigh and raised her eyebrows. The walls in her face stayed down. That was a good sign right?

'Talk as you mean to go on.' Dean was warring with inner dialogue. 'Ask, what do mean ask, you have to ask, no you don't, yes you do, be a strong man, wimp.' She watched the fervent conversation play across his face. When he crinkled his nose and chewed on his bottom lip, she had to bite down a smile. She waited patiently for his battle to finish.

'Was she smiling at him?' "Angel I heard your phone ring." She raised an eyebrow. "You thought I was making arrangements to leave?" She asked without choler in her voice. In fact he thought he heard understanding. "Truthfully, it had crossed my mind." It might have, but she wouldn't he knew that now.

"As I think you have deduced, I kind of have small fear of abandonment." Dean looked down at his box as he said this. 'What in the sticks was in there?' "Small Fear? What do you consider a large flashing sign?" She smiled at him when she joshed. "Point made Angel."

"I didn't mean to hear your side of the conversation, but I did." He actually looked disconcerted as he admitted the transgression. The girl who had just had said overheard chat couldn't think of anything that she said that would make him sheepish accept for listening in the first place. "Okay, bad Kansas." Dean looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Kansas, what do you want me to say? I have heard phone calls before."

'Be a man.' "Who is Auggie? " Eyes twinkling at his obvious discomfort she took a sip of her restorative cocoa. "Your husband?" At the second question she almost chocked on her drink. When she swallowed she howled with laughter.

"Auggie is going to love that. My husband." His Angel continued to chuckle. "Dean apparently your eyesight still hasn't returned, I am not blond, blessed with big girls, a demure figure or a wedding band." She picked up his hand and slid it over her left. "No silver shackle. No husband." Still smiling she gently released his warm fingers. 'The fever should be decreasing by now.'

"Auggie my husband…" The injured young man wished her grin were infectious. It wasn't. "He might as well be the amount of time we spend together. I do love him and he is as handsome as they come. Alas though, he not my spouse. He is your Dad's age. Not that I am opposed to the May-December thing just not with Aug." 'What does May-December mean?' Dean didn't think it was the right time to ask. She was in the sharing mood and he wanted to listen.

"At the risk of blowing my employers anonymity…" before she could continue the man sitting next to her cut her off. "Please Mary, I want you to know I respect the position you are in. Don't say anything you think might…" "Dean its all right. Honest, I appreciate your acquiesce. At this point we either trust each other or bust." He nodded. "…you have meet Auggie. According to my virtual husband…" the hazel eyed Winchester groaned. "…it was some years back, but you have meet him."

Dean was drawing a blank, he meet someone name Auggie. "What is his last name, to me he would have been Mr. Something?" He questioned his Angel. "Nice try Kansas. No, if you came to it on your own, there was nothing I could do. Auggie is my employer's right hand man and a very close friend. "

She smiled at him. "He is also a good friend of your Dad's. Auggie was the medic for their unit." The owner of slightly more messy than it was earlier bun watched the wheels turning in her bedmates mind. 'Medic for his Dad's unit…It rang a bell, but he just couldn't place it.'

"You were worried I was married?" Asking him genuinely curious he seemed very worried. "Well the other night when I touched you, you flew off the bed. When I heard that call I figured you were married. That would make sense." 'What was the look she was giving him? It didn't look good.'

"I didn't react to the Great Dean Winchester's touch and that means there is something wrong with that?" Nerve, that look was her last nerve. 'Uh oh.' Hoping to defuse her ire he went with abashed humor. "Most women usually fall into my touch you ran away. It's a new experience for me." The look he was giving her made her relent. Sad kicked in the head puppy dog eyes.

"Kansas, you could not have caught me if you life depended on it." He smiled at her and with an unflinching voice said. "I would always catch you Angel." The girl who would be caught couldn't help smiling as she replied, "Oh Kansas, you are a charmer." He went to say something else. "I know you are serious." She knew it too, he would.

"Auggie wanted to make sure I was okay. After talking with our employer my man thought I might need a sympathetic ear. He also wanted to fill me in on what I had missed while being your Florence Nightingale." Hoping to not have to ask who Owen was he prompted her. "What did you miss? Anything important." Then he stopped abruptly. "Kansas, are you okay? What happened?" Her one hand took his pulse and the other moved his face to check his eyes. His pupils looked normal, his rhythm was even.

"Oh hell Angel, it just hit me. Because of me you have been removed from your life." He was shamefaced. "Dean, please look at me." Sad eyes looked at her. "Dean my life is much like yours. Minus your beautiful car." He smiled at the passion with which she said beautiful car. "Most of it is spent hunting down bad things or supporting those who do. My side is more research, though I do go out from time to time."

Here it was the turning point he sensed it in his battered gut. "My employer knows several hunters like the Winchester boys. He sort of runs a network, they are known as the Covenant. Your father however is a VERY good friend of his." Dean did not miss the inflection on very. 'The Covenant, she just gave him everything he needed. He would never use it against her. Trust was usually foreign in their lives.'

"Nursing you has not removed me from my life. My small circle of friend's maybe. I only have one friend who doesn't know what I do." He understood. She laughed and started humming a song. He chuckled at her choice **Utopia's** Freak Parade. Then faintly not quite singing he said the words. …So I gotta take my place in the freak parade, see my face in the freak parade. In a world full of freaks…Marching in the freak parade… 'They were freaks.'

"Still, you could be here awhile." Dean's guilt battling with not wanting to be alone was raging all over his face. She smiled at the conflicting emotions that were both plain as day. "That I will." 'Not could, will.' His Angel went on "This mean's I will have you to add to my list of people to call in case of emergency. You will be on the Covenant's roster now."

Dean turned his head slightly he felt his cheeks flame. He said in what he hoped was a joking manner. "Not to your list of friends?" Her face fell he could see the anguish. "I understand I am a job. At least I made it to your emergency call list." She put her head up. 'Fuck.'

"You will never be just a job." She cracked her neck. 'Oh would that he could do that. He was actually afraid to attempt it, what if his head rolled off.' "My employer would prefer it that way." His Angel sighed, yes his. Moving her hand to rest on his cheek, "Kansas, you know you could never be just a job. I wouldn't have fought to stay if I didn't care. You've grown on me."

Then she laughed. 'Laughed?' "Oh fuck." He raised his eyes. "I didn't mean that in the literal sense. It was just getting to chick flick in here, even for me." He laughed while putting his hand to her check. "You are one of a kind." Moving hers she covered his hand for a second. "I am choosing to take that statement as a compliment." Then dropping it she turned and handed him the liquid chocolate dispenser. They sipped in silence.

Placing her cup back on the side table she answered his earlier questions. "I didn't miss anything important. Owen found a new burial site. He must miss me." His Angel had a far away look in her eye. His? Hum. "Who is Owen and why was he looking for burial sites?" Dean asked keeping the tone conversational. "You mean there are people out there who don't enjoy looking for things that go bump in the night?" He laughed at her quip about there out of the norm lives.

"Owen is a coon dog and he fancies himself a ghost hunter. He is actually Auggie's dog. Auggie doesn't like me going to the cemeteries by myself so Owen comes with me. Owen is a kick ass hunter dog." 'A tailwagger, Owen was a dog' "A ghost hunter?" Dean asked with a little of the disbelief he was feeling coming out in his voice. His Angel's chin hardened and her nose twitched. "You would like him. He can pick up a spirit a mile away." "Owen is a kick ass hunter dog." The normally kick ass hunter agreed.

"Kansas, I have to ask now, can't hold it in any longer." The look she gave him spoke volumes as to her curiosity. "Angel?" He turned his head. "What is in the world's heaviest box? The one currently residing on your legs?" The brown eyed girl watched his face go from indulgently humorous to instantly sober. "Kansas, I didn't realize. Please forgive me. As I told you, you do have the right to privacy."

She went to move. He again stayed her with one hand and reached over her, placing the chocolate peace offering down with the other. "My life is in this box. All the good memories I have. Dean Christopher Winchester may be the biggest opposer to chick flick moments, but he does have feelings." She gave him an amazing smile, one that light up the hidden room inside him.

"My grandmother gave me this box when she knew she was passing. I would sit with her for hours. We would talk and laugh. I would learn. She taught me everything she new." He chuckled at some distance memory. "She was a formidable woman my nana. Nothing scared her. Well, leaving me she said did." His eyes were still in the past.

August 10, 1984Centropolis, Kansas

"Dean my little man, you are very special. Don't you let your father take your heart. It is the salvation of the Winchester Family. Remember that all though he will do things you don't understand at the time, he loves you more than life it self. Take care of Sammy, not just because he needs you, but because you need him. Also, please remember to take time out a be kid." When he focused on her his eyes were in the present. "I didn't know what salvation meant then. Sure do now."

June 2, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

"Wow, she sounds like a woman I would have loved to know." Dean grinned. "You two would have become fast friends." Angel grinned back. "That is one of the nicest compliments I have ever received." Tracing the sunflower on the cover he traveled back in time again. "She knew what my Dad had in store for us. The constant moving, the 'little soldiers or boots as he said.' She also knew that I would be the glue that held the Winchester's together. While it's true I raised Sam, was his destroy of things in the dark and taught him all the important things he knows. I helped my Dad battle the evils of his soul to. When I was little I'd rub his back like he would us."

He ran his hands over the box in a calming effort. "Maybe that is why this is so hard. He could have tried reasoning with me." She put a hand on his. "Would you have listened?" Sighing he answered. "I don't know. But I deserved the benefit of the doubt. Before when he walloped my ass he always told me why first. Never just paddled it, well Weeping... 'Weeping? Weeping what' she thought. He wanted me to understand what I did and why I was receiving the punishment that would cause me not to find resting on my bum comfortable." His Angel squeezed his hand. She knew how hard it was for him to talk about this, male pride and all.

"Anyhow, I sat with him while he cried as many nights as I have sat with Sam if not more." Dean looked at her. "Why? Why didn't he try?" She bit her lip. "I don't know Kansas, I don't know. He did what he thought was best at the time. Maybe he forgot and is going to do the process in reverse. Walloping and then explanation." A hallow laugh rang forth from his still cracked lips. Mary went on, "He loves you that much I know. He sobbed in my arms after he saw you laid out on this bed looking ready for a whole other kind of box."

Dean looked at her, tears shinning in his eyes. She opened her arms. He leaned into her. His Angel held him for along time, rubbing his lower back. She was still ever vigilant about coming into contact with the bruised kidney. When Dean finally lifted his head it felt as if a weight had been lifted off him. He looked at his Angel she looked down at him, tears staining their respective faces.

They came to an understanding that starry June night. Theirs was a bond that would never be broken. Dean's body healed steadily but slowly. His soul's road to recovery took longer. The hunter found calmness and a peace along the way that humbled him. His Angel helped him to slay his demons and come to terms with the path that had been laid out for him.


	7. Road To Nowhere

Greetings All ye readers, thanks for taking the time to view another installment of Carry On Wayward Son. As always these characters are not mine. Can only hope that Mr. Kripke can pull the first episode out of the fire and bring back Dad. He can not be dead. The part of the conversation we didn't hear with Dean – I hold out hope. What would I do without my Jeffrey Dean Morgan? Thanks to Ms. LUCA for all her kind words and encouragement. Reviews are always appreciated. Enjoy.

June 2, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

"You were adorable. Look at your little legs. Are those dimples on your knees?" His Angel was laughing at one of his baby pictures. A then six month old Dean was in a diaper and a little blue tee shirt that had Kansas across the front in fancy white scroll. The aforementioned little legs up in the air, the beginnings of his well known cocky grin on his face. The now twenty six year old decided to share the contents of 'the world's heaviest box.'

When his calloused, still marred hands opened it her eyes went to the name that was carved in the underside of the lid, Rose. Rose Catherine Winchester, mother to Jonathon Dean Winchester and grandmother to Dean Christopher Winchester. The way the young man ran his fingers over the name, the young lady sitting next to him guessed he had done it many times before. We all have actions that provide us a centering peace.

Once the inhabitants of the safe house cabin in Lone Star, Kansas finished checking out the photos of an infant Dean they moved onto the ones of the duo. The duo being the bestest brother in the world and his younger sibling cool brother extraordinaire. There were dozens and dozens of the two of them doing everything from sitting on a log to completely drenched in mud.

It was heart wrenchingly obvious to Mary how close the boys were. This separation however had changed them. They wanted that unspoken connection back but were at a loss as to how to get it. One day it would happen. It was already happening. In every picture one had an arm around the other. The saturated in sloop picture was hilarious their Dad had taken it. The photo became even more poignant when Dean told her the story behind it. Their father called them mud monkeys.

The older of the two mud monkeys in the photo related the memory with a great deal of mirth. "Sammy was five and begged me to learn him to wrestle." The way Dean said five his Angel figured was the way the little one had said it. She cocked an eyebrow. The bed sitting warrior imitated his younger sibling, "Dean I am five years old now, learn me." The older brother reiterated complete with the great Winchester sigh. She knew the lower lip was all Sam. Everyone had their tells.

"Anyhow Dad was helping Pastor Jim do something or another." The storyteller let out a hearty laugh. "So I learned him. Never taught him anything always learned him. No matter how many times I tried to get him to use the proper phrase he would change it back to learn me." Dean's simple smile said it all. It made him feel special. Sam picked up on that, wanted his brother to know he was important to him. The brown eyed girl watched her patient travel back to the day.

October 8, 1988Blue Earth, Minnesota

"Come on Sammy, give it to me good." An older more experienced Dean told his little brother. "What if I hurt you?" The just learning to wrestle five year old asked sincerely. "Sammy you can't hurt me, I am the bestest brother in the world, that protects me." The nine year old informed his cool brother extraordinaire. That was good enough for Sam. They went at it. There were arms, legs, here there and everywhere.

"Dean Christopher and Samuel John." The father of the mud wrestlers bellowed in his baritone voice. For some reason to the brothers their father's cadence seemed deeper when he yelled, especially right now. The older boy wasn't sure as to why. Maybe it was just knowing that his Dad caught them doing something they didn't have permission to do.

Dean looked down at himself and over to Sam, they were soused head to toe in wet dirt. 'Oh no,' the older boys thought. 'We're going to get it.' Instinctively Dean placed himself between his brother and what he perceived as a threat, their father.

John heard his youngest say to his eldest. "I might not be able to hurt you, but he can. What if he spanks you like he before? It will be all my fault again. Cause I wanted you to learn me." The Dad closed his eyes at his the doughty reply. "Sammy it wasn't your fault then and it isn't now. I learned you not the other way around. It will be okay Amos."

Then his stouthearted soldier squared his Winchester chin and looked his father dead in his eyes. "Sir." Dean heard Pastor Jim worriedly say, "Jonathon they are just being boys." The young soon to be hunter watched his Dad look at his good friend and raise his eyes. Not knowing if that was a good or bad sign, he prepared for the worst.

June 2, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

Present day Dean continued, "Dad had came out back to find us covered, not an inch of his children wasn't in thick heavy mud. He wasn't real happy with the two of us, especially since it was October and the days were getting colder. We could have gotten sick." The uncomfortable man shifted on the bed, sighing he went on.

"I should have known better, but it was still kinda warm and well I wanted to learn Sam. We had been cooped up inside helping Jim fix the house for days. Didn't really think Dad and Jim would be finished with what they were doing as fast as they did." She bit a lip at the passion with which he said learn Sam. They loved each other so much. "Yeah that's what I thought when he yelled at us, fuck I really thought for a minute my ass was toast." The narrator laughed and went on.

October 8, 1988Blue Earth, Minnesota

John swallowed and looked at his sons, his wonderful strong sons who shouldn't leave in fear. He thought they were past that. He really did. With a twinkle in his eye and with what he hoped was a chuckle in his voice he asked the mud monkeys, "Boys, what are you doing?"

The over six foot father made sure to make eye contact with his older one. If his Imp relaxed and understood his father wasn't upset, then the little one would know all would be okay. Dean released the breath he had been holding. He could tell his Dad wasn't mad. When he was upset the vein on the side of his eye grew big and he had a look. To be on the safe side though he stuck with sir.

"Sir, Sammy wanted to learn how to wrestle and I though it was okay to show him a thing or two." The wrestling instructor informed his father careful to keep his voice even, as a precaution. 'Oh Mary, I am so sorry.'

The flannel clad thirty two year old raised an eyebrow at the phrase, squatting down so he was at his half pints level he asked the midget. "Well Sammy did you learn a thing or two?" Sam looked him square in the eye. "Yes sir. Maybe even three or four. Dean is a good learner."

John smiled reached over and put a hand on the taller of his two mud monkey's shoulder. "That he is. Why don't you show me what Dean learned you?" His five year olds face swung from his bestest brother to his Dad and back about half a dozen times. "Really?" His brown green eyes were big as he asked.

"Really?" Dean echoed the yearning in the one word was hard not to notice. The baled father gritted his teeth at his dirty blonds questioning statement. Had he been able to hear Jim's thought, he would have heard the last really in the trifecta. Laughing light heartedly for the first time in a long time the man replied with the only response that seemed appropriate. "Really."

For the next several hours John tussled around in the mud with his boy's. All three laughed and had a great time. Yeah he might have been learning them techniques. But it was his son's that taught the lesson that day. 'Sometimes it okay to just let go and roll around in the mud. Life will be there tomorrow.' As it grew dark the father knew it was quitting time. His little centurions were running low on fuel and without the sun warmth would not be had.

"All right then boys. What say you we get ourselves cleaned up and have some chow?" His eyes coruscated with pride when mud caked faces looked at him with content, oh they were tired, but content smiles, "okay Dad." They okay came out more like hoookay. The equally worn out but blissful former Marine gave his children a once over.

John would not subject his best friend Jim's newly waxed floors to a mud bath. "Out of your clothes then." Wide exhausted eyes stared at him startled. "Gotta hose you down, we are not and I repeat not going in the house like this." Sighing he heard small voices say, "Yes sir."

The pastor had been keeping an eye on his wayward family. After hearing the former leatherneck inform his sons they were going to be doused he headed in search of warm wrappers. The boys striped and their father washed them off, careful to keep the pressure at a minimum. When they were clean enough to use the shower without blocking the pipes he said, "finished."

His dirty blond mini me stared at him and with a twinkle in his hazel eyes so sincerely asked, "What about you Dad?" His best friend in the entire world looked at him with a more high handed expression and equally as sincerely said, "Yes, Jonathon, what about you?" The looks on his boy's faces as they hosed him down would stay with him forever. Unadulterated glee. A indubitable happy family moment.

Jim held out oversized green towels for all three participants of what would become an annual mud wrestling event. Sam was the first to enter the house. "Thank you Jim." The owner of soon to be water covered floors smiled at the exhaustion on the little tykes face. "You are welcome Samuel." The five year padded out of the living room. His elfin voice carried back to the former Chaplin from the hall. "Sorry about the water on your floors."

Next through the back door was Dean, his heart warmed at the happy look on the boys face. Most of the time the poor child faked it, but not tonight. This was a special child. Jim only hoped one day there would be someone who made the boy feel it. To Dean it was about making every one else happy. Angels willing there would be a person out there to make him happy. It wasn't that Sammy didn't but the older man knew there was a difference.

"Thank you Jim, I promise to wash down the steps and mop the floors. I'll do it as soon as I am cleaned and changed." Sighing at the little domestic's need to make sure all was good; the kind gentleman patted the young man's head. "Thank you for the confirmation that all will be well with the house boy. Though I never had any doubt."

Last to enter the warm house was his oldest pal and father to the previous entrants. The man whose scared back was glistening under the porch light as he took the towel from his friend said "Thank you Jim." The Pastor cocked an eyebrow at the ungruff expression of gratitude. Normally the single father humfed things out. Tonight though he could hear calm and peace in the dark haired mans voice. "You did a good thing today Jonathon. The boys needed it and so did you my friend. So did you."

The plum tuckered father swallowed, "I know Jim. I was glad we were covered in mud. When they flew at me at the end, hugged me and said thanks Dad you rock… Angels help me, tears stung at my eyes." The Padre grabbed the ghost hunter's shoulder, "Those boys love you never doubt that."

True to his word a nine year old Dean clad in an old tee shirt of his fathers and fleece sweatpants swabbed down the back porch and stairs. Then he moped the living room floor and the hallway. After that the young homemaker cleaned the entire bathroom, even going so far as to change the air freshener. The owner of the house smiled sadly.

The little one promised Jim the first time that the ragtag group came to stay at the Murphy home that he would clean up after the Winchesters. They weren't going to disturb the order of the house. Nothing was more important to that boy than family and to him Jim was family. When you give your word you keep it, even at such a young age.

June 2, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

They were looking at the photos of the three Winchesters men together including the one that Pastor Jim had taken of the 'mud monkeys' wrestling their Dad's arms down when her phone rang. Checking the caller id the lady on the corpulent coffin said, "It's your father."

Dean's fingers tightened their hold on the box involuntarily. "Will you put him on speaker?" Her look was penetrating as if to silently say 'I would do that because?' He swallowed at the intense gaze. The aching son gave her an equally potent stare he understood her trepidation, "I promise to be quiet."

His Angel's gaze softened, she empathized with his need to connect with his parent. The little boy inside wanted to hear his Dad. If he did than he hadn't been completely abandoned. It is a psychological game you play with yourself. Flipping the phone open Ms. Carney pressed the speaker button and in neutral voice said "Good Evening Mr. Winchester." "Evening Bella." The dark haired patriarch of the Winchester clan's tone relayed a kind of exhaustion that comes from emotional turmoil.

The son of said patriarch and his faithful fellow photo looker could hear the sounds of the Ole Girl, John's Chevy truck rattling in the background. "How's my Imp?" The dirty blond's fingers looked as if they might crack the cottonwood chest. The caretaker massaged them until they loosened their hold. Imp must be their special name. 'Oh my poor Kansas.' Shaking her head she responded, "Doing better sir. He was able to eat and keep down food today."

The still black and blue son heard his bastard father sigh. No doubt in his mind, it was followed by his hands rubbing his face. His Dad did that when he was stressed. They all did. Another gesture the father passed onto his boys. "That's good. Has he started pelting you with questions yet? Kid might joke about Sam being the one to attack like a dog with a bone. But Imp, he never lets up. He just learned his mother's art of subtlety."

The wounded man watched in fascination as his Angel gave his father her middle finger. Then she laughed and cautiously replied, "I'm sorry sir. I thought we were speaking about Dean." 'He could be subtle. Sometimes.' He conceded in his mind. She was still chuckling. 'Okay maybe subtle is too subjective a word.' John Winchester's laugh rang hallow. His voice was rough as he asked, "He is up then I take it?" Mary kept her cadence detached as she answered, "Yes sir."

Another sigh, 'holy schnikey' the girl thought. 'This family takes sighing to a whole new level.' Not one to beat around the bush the crestfallen father went straight to the question he most wanted no needed to know the answer too. "Does he hate me?" Dean could hear the break in his father's voice. His hand released the box and gently touched her phone; he closed his eyes at the emotion the catch stirred. Watching the hand movement her heart dropped. They both loved each other so much. 'Why oh why. Stupid stubborn men…'

The owner of a really messy bun after the day she had let her thoughts trail off. Her voice sad as she answered, "No sir, he doesn't." The older hunter's breath was audible. "Damn it Bella, I have told you to call me John. After all we have been through together. I thought we were past that." Interesting the son thought, his Dad always let people call him sir. He must really respect her. "Yes sir," her tone even as she answered. 'What had they been through together?'

John cut her off and with the barest hint of levity said, "you know sweetheart, you remind me of Dean on his last birthday." Check that he called her sweetheart his father never used terms of endearment like that he must really hold her in great regard. When the twenty six year old found out why his Dad held her in great regard he would see them both in a new light.

'Sweetheart' looked at Dean as if to ask 'what did you do?' Smiling he mouthed the words "I would only call him sir." Grinning at him she spoke into the phone "How's that sir?" John humfed. "He would only call me sir." Not for the first time in his life did John Winchester loath that word. 'Sir.'

His nursemaid and friend, yes friend smirked. 'Oh shit' Dean thought in the short time they had spent together he had come to know that grin, his father was in for something. Again careful to keep her voice unbiased, "You raised him to respect his elders, sir." 'Take that Sir!' The knee brace wearer smiled at her emphasis on the word elders. His Dad didn't miss it either. Or her deliberate use of the word sir at the end of the statement.

"Bella." The road traveling hunter lamented with an exasperated sigh. Showing the heartbroken father more magnanimity than he had provided his son she moderated her voice a minute amount, "No your son doesn't hate you, he could never hate you. Dean understands that you did what you felt you needed to do. He does wish however you had consulted him first." John sighed again a bone weary sigh. 'What was it with this family? Did John think the only things he needed to pass on were a stubborn streak and a sigh?'

"Bella if I thought he would have listened I would have. Dean would have followed me order or not. You know full well how dangerous things are getting now. Despite what he might think, his safety is a priority to me." She looked at Dean, giving him an encouraging squeeze of the hand. The young warrior against dark forces stared at the skeleton on her wrist. 'You know full well how dangerous things are getting now. Okay Dean you will have to do a little recon just how the fucker on the phone taught you.'

"Sir he does know and the sad thing is you know that he knows. I do not understand the thickheaded Winchester Male Pride. You two love each other beyond measure why oh why." The recuperating Lawrence native raised his eyes heaven ward at that. The just mentioned Winchester Male Pride in all its glory. Attempting a little bit of humor the father commented "Bella, if you don't now you will soon. Dean has perfected it, actually made it into an art form."

Something about the joshing hit her the wrong way. Humor in the face of adversity was Dean's trait, being an ass was John's. The spunky Covenant member silenced the older hunter with her biting words. "And why do you think that is John?" The healing hunter cringed at the way she said John. It was to get a rise out of his father and to let him know whose side she was on. Not his. Dean touched her face and mouthed the words, "thank you." She touched his face her smile kind, "your welcome."

Then Mary turned her attention back to the man on the other end of the phone. The caretaker was not going to be deterred. In the coming seasons her bedmate would come to appreciate and then execrate her relentless pursuit of defending hers. "You molded your son, no one else, you. If Dean acts the way he does. It is because of your actions." The emphasis on the word your actually made the physically abused man next to her recoil. If the two sitting on the bed could have scene John they would have observed his hands tighten on the steering wheel so hard they turned white.

Dean smiled despite his disconsolate heart, as his champion took no prisoners. His Angels voice was hard and uncompromising. Much like John's had been when he said the same words to his son, the son in question mused. "Take care of your brother Dean. We are fighters Dean. This is our life Dean. There is NOTHING more important than family Dean. You can't train him to follow your orders like a good little boot. Then get angry when he does what you trained him to do. There is NOTHING more important than family Dean. Maybe you should remember there is NOTHING more important than family John."

Hazel eyes widen with shock or he wasn't sure what. Dean touched Mary's hand he not knowing if it was to stop her or encourage or maybe just reassure her. Girl had stones man. If he had said something like that to his Dad he had no doubt he would have garnered one of his rare backhands. Dean lowered his head to the phone. Would be worth it even in his mending condition just see his father's expression.

The man didn't say anything for a whole minute. Probably to flabbergasted to formulate the words in his head into a sentence. Then "Bella. Don't take that tone with me." He heard the indurate edge in his father's voice as the former Marine answered. Not backing down or giving an inch she continued.

"Why not John?" His son shuttered this time at the disgust with which she said his Dad's name. "What are you going to do to me? Beat the living hell of me? We both know I can take a beating. Besides I am not afraid of you John. So bring it on." Cast iron, girl had cast iron ones. 'We both know I can take a beating? What happened to his Angel that his Dad knew about?'

Dean touched her face holding her still bruised check in his rough hand. It might be few and far between, but his Dad would have kicked his ass but good for talk like that, despite his current state. The Impala driver couldn't be certain that if his Angel were in front his Dad she wouldn't have received the same reaction. Telling the old man to 'bring it on.' That bold statement would have been where John hit her, girl or no. Taunting was a dangerous action to take with the Great John Winchester. She wasn't afraid though the twenty six year old really believed that.

"Enough Angel, Please." The dirty blond implored his verbal sword brandishing Angel as loud as he dared without alerting his Dad to the fact he was privy to their conversation. Her brown eyes raged with the flames of someone on fire to protect their own. The maker of breakfast in bed turned her head back to the phone squeezing his hands as she did, hoping to find the strength to continue. Some one had to tell John like it was. Mary knew him well enough she thought to try.

When the next words came out of her mouth, he realized this was for him. Dean was humbled at the gesture. His Dad was in a state of shock, had to be. He hadn't replied to the challenge at all. No one Dean knew would talk his father like that. Only once had Sammy tried and he received a harsh punch to the face for his efforts, deservedly so. Still the kid hadn't said the words with the stone cold ferocity she had. No Sam was caged. To her she was simply stating it as it was.

Sensing the boxer on the other end of the phone wasn't ready to retort she went in for the kill. "John, Dean knows you love him and you made what you thought a prudent decision. Not that he understands why you thought it was best. Given your abhorrence of physical reprimanding…" That did it the son thought his beautiful brown eyed Angel stuck the nail on the head, the man's Achilles Heal. This was for him the stitched face Winchester felt the tears sting the backs of his eyes. His father spoke up before she could continue.

"Girl I might abhor it doesn't mean I won't if the situation calls for it." "Name the time and place John." Was the brazen and undaunted response to his tactful way of reminding her he would paddle her ass if she were with him in person. Dean jerked at her statement. His Angel would have been in his fathers vice grip her backside burning from his Dad's harsh unrelenting hand.

He prayed to the Angels and that God Jim told him about that his Dad wouldn't harm her. Because if his father tried the still half broken son knew with every once of strength he had left in his body he would defend her. Dad or not. Turns out the son needn't have worried. John still remembered her ripped open and saturated in blood.

Then as is if tossing the gauntlet down in front of his father and waving her sword hadn't been enough she went on. "He also knows the strap marks across his back are your way of saying its okay to hate him. He doesn't. You raised a strong son with an iron will and endless capacity to process the world around."

Mary took a deep breath and finished before she lost her nerve. "Dean also has your heart. I know you told me he inherited this from Mrs. Winchester but he has yours. Semper Fidelis, Terminus." Both Winchesters listening had tears in their respective eyes neither wanting to let them fall they bit on their lips. Another thing the father past on to his boys.

The girl knew it was time to stop talking to John the way she was, it could be considered reprimanding, which is what she would receive, a harsh one if he decided to take this up with Silas. The hunter was after all her elder in both life and the Covenant. Slights against a senior member of the Covenant, especially a Winchester would not go unpunished. No, she really didn't think the senior Winchester would pursue that avenue. Things changed between Silas and John that night.

Lowering the heat in her voice she said the same words she had earlier. This time with tenderness and compassion, "there is nothing more important than family." The six foot one son heard his father swallow. "He learned that from you. Because to you there is nothing more important than family. You would walk through the catacombs of hell for those boys. Why would you expect Dean's thought process to be any different?"

The ordinarily indomitable warriors lost their battle with the tears. Dean's traced a bumpy path down his checks. John let his fall off his chin onto his hand. A hand still cut from pummeling his son to the other side of the catacombs of hell. He thought back to that moment outside of the barn. When he wondered if he made the right choice asking Silas to send this pip squeak to care for his first born.

Mary did have a smart mouth just like Deans and boy did the girl have grit. Not even his arrogant Sam would have mouthed off like that. The aging Winchester couldn't be sure he wouldn't have hauled her over a knee or not. Truth was he never heard her like that, she was as even keeled a rudder as you could get. Just like his Imp.

As evidenced by her carefully chosen, yet impassioned words, the freckled nosed girl was blessed with the same iron mettle as the wounded young man she was tending too. John had watched the girl in action. Dean would have said, 'girl has stones Dad.' He had to agree. 'Not all Angels have perfect halos.' His Mary's voice rang in his head. The father figured this girl was as close as Dean could get, and he wasn't wrong. He had been witness to her iron mettle before, even that night she refused to crack…

The plucky little usually in braided pigtails minx with a heart as big the whole state of Kansas would fight to the death for his son. Of this John had no doubt at all, none. She wasn't afraid of him and she would walk through the catacombs of hell for Dean barefoot and without an ounce of fear. The poor girl had already been through hell once, twice if you counted… What was one more trip? One day unbeknownst to any of them that would be put to the test and walk she would.

When he didn't say anything she said in a subdued tone, "From my experience with you, you are a strong and kind man. All you have done for me… Every strong man has weak moments your weak moment was not when you ravaged your son. No it was when you didn't give him the respect of telling him why." Gone was the sass and vinegar, this was the girl he was used to. John ran a hand over his face as listened to the rest of her of what she had to say.

"You are well aware of the fact he is conscious enough to talk with you. You owe him his chance to speak. Please John for me. Talk to your boy. It's not as if at this point he can track you down." The plea was strong yet understated if that was at all possible. 'For her.' The 'boy' wondered what his Dad owed his Angel. John Winchester always repaid a debt. She was cashing a chip in for him, the feelings that stirred in him. He didn't even know their names it had been so long. Mary ran a hand over her side.

The five foot eight Covenant conduit was afraid to look at Dean. His Dad was still after all, his father. Nothing was more important than family to the Winchesters no matter what, they might be at odds with each other but they would always band together.

Using the time honored tradition of evasion she kept her eyes on the wall in front of her. Dean's Angel reasoned with herself, if she didn't look at him, than he couldn't look at her, then she wouldn't see the disgust in his gaze. If she had braved up and locked eyes with her patient the only thing she would have found was pride.

"Mary." Dean and the lady in question looked at her phone. Surprise on both their faces at the former gunny's use of her given name. It was very hard for him to say it too. It cut another hole in his eviscerated heart. He missed his wife so damn much. The radiant blond she still haunted his dreams, an image would pop up in the middle of the day. Unconsciously he would reach a hand to touch his sweet Marzipan's face.

"Yes, John." The auburn haired pipsqueak as John thought of her prepared for the impending verbal lashing. She had her turn he was owed his. Mary knew if John felt the situation was a breach in rules he would handle it. Between the two of them and she would respect his decision. Even if that meant a good old fashion over the knee spanking. Not that at her age she would want to submit to the degrading position, but if it would square things between them…

Which is why her jaw dropped when he didn't even dress her down. Instead he acceded, "you are right, I should call me son." 'Did he just agree with her?' The battered son smiled. John Winchester did have a pair after all. "Truth is I am scared. Part of me wants him to hate me."

She countered before her daring left her, "Not like you to take the coward's way out." The man on the other end of the phone groaned, knowing she was again correct, but damn it all to hell did she have to point in out? Maybe a turn over his knee might do her some good.

'No.' He could still see images her broken and bleeding in front of him. Twice he had been soused in her blood. That horrible night and when she took a knife to save him. Images flashed on the real running in his head. No, a turn over his knee was a trip she would never make. "Part of me knows that if he said those words to me, I would be done. Finished." The corpulent coffin mates could hear the tears in his voice.

"I am so fucked up." Mary sighed hoping to her self it was of a similar quality to the Winchester sigh. She did have her dignity to maintain after all. "John you are so not going to get an argument from me." They both laughed, the lines had been drawn sides had been taken. The victory in this battle was that everyone involved did or would have their chance to talk. That out of the way a little drollery was in order. "Sweetheart, you two really were made for each other." The girl listening just laughed off the half joking half serious comment.

"The important thing is that you don't leave things like this with Dean. He loves you. That is not going to change." Swallowing the lump in his throat a defeated John Winchester said, "Okay you win, I will call him. Is he sleeping now?" Knowing that both men would need time to prepare she improvised. "Yes, soundly for the moment." The timorous man didn't realize how grateful he was for the reprieve until it was handed to him.

'What if Dean did say those words?' Sam's from years earlier rang in his head. "…I don't ever want to darken your path again…sir." The disquieted father knew that coming from Sam they weren't meant. The boy just wanted out.

In fact he knew Sam had come to a couple of their jobs and watched from afar. Oh he would never tell the little shit all right big little shit, but it dissolved some of the metal chains around his heart just the same. Sammy might have hated hunting actually what it stood for but he loved his family. Not just his bestest brother in the world. He bastard father too.

From Dean though, if that son every said those words, mean them he would. John didn't know where he would be if that happened. There would be no reason to go on then. Yes he did, with Mary, well maybe if Saint Peter let him in. 'And when I get to Heaven, to Saint Peter I will tell. One more Marine, okay solider, but he would always be a Marine even in death, reporting for duty sir. I have served my time in hell. And served he had.

"Okay sweetheart in the morning. You have my word." Hazel eyes noted her face relaxed. Her brown ones looked down as she finished speaking with his father. "Thank you for agreeing to call your son John. You have never broken your word to me. You know the conversation will help you both to heal. Not just Dean but you too." The father sighed and replied, "I know sweetheart. Thank you for everything." The former gunny went to disconnect the call. "Pax tectum, John." He smiled and without thinking replied in kind, " post tenebras lux." "Semper."

She smiled as they hung up, maybe just maybe this family would make it through. The Winchester sitting on the bed next to her raised an eyebrow. "What?" The Latin speaker sighed, "I said." Dean cut her off, "I did grow up with my Dad and Jim for that matter. I do speak some Latin. Peace be with you John. After the darkness, light. Always." She turned her head silently saying what! then. "Nothing just impressed that's all." 'That's all, my ass' she thought but didn't say it.

Dean expelled the pent up breath he had been holding. His face was a storm of emotions, ones he normally kept under lock and key. "Angel, you are the best friend a person could ask for." She smiled at him, when the gesture reached his psyche words he heard years ago filtered through his head. "…And don't give me any of that lip about nothing scaring you. Because we both know I know different…when you find her, please let her ease the pain." 'Who knew Jim would have it on the mark?'

"Thanks Kansas, you are not so bad yourself." The bestest brother wanted and needed to address the conversation that had just occurred between his Angel and father. He took a deep invigorating breath and went for it. John Winchester didn't raise no chicken.

"Sweetheart you are damn lucky you weren't in front of my Dad with talk like that. Your cheek would be sporting more colors than it is now. And your nice round ass…" his hazel eyes leered exaggeratedly at the just mentioned body part "…would be smarting as he whaled on it." Somehow she doubted that.

Again she absently ran a hand over a space between her ribs. This time Dean noticed the action. Without waiting for permission he didn't think he would get he lifted her shirt up. 'Holy fuck.' What had made that scar? His Angel's gaze was intently focused on his hand tracing the thick heavy reminder of a battle since past.

Instead of answering his unasked question Sweetheart cocked an eyebrow and responded to the statement. The words almost made him swallow his tongue. "Let him hit me. We could be a matching set." It wasn't the first time he had heard that exact set of phrases. A melee of feelings raged through the ravaged body of Dean Winchester as he thought back to that night.

"You take care of us everyday, Dad and I. If he can't return the favor with anything other than what he did last night. Let him hit me. We could be a matching set." He coughed as he remembered what he said to the kid. "Sammy please… I need to know you will be okay. You might be all he has left."

There were two people in the world willing to take on his Dad just to protect him. Fuck he didn't need safeguarding from his Dad. No anytime that man smacked him it was because he loved him, even now. With this situation it might not have been warranted in the son's eyes, but to the father…

The aching child had to trust in his old man's actions. At least he cared enough to be involved, misguided as his beating, yes beating, he would use the word even if Dad wouldn't, was. Still he appreciated the sentiment.

"Kansas? Talk to me." He could hear the worry in her voice. "Sorry Angel, I just…my mind wandered there for a second." The look she gave him said, 'I doubt that.' Much to his relief though, she let it go. And much to her relief he let the question of her scar and the fact she could take a beating go. For now.

"…You know full well how dangerous things are getting now. Despite what he might think, his safety is a priority to me." The twenty six year old decided it was recon time. "Mary…" Dean started. The look in her eyes stopped him, he needed to know the information, but he was beginning to care about this brown eyed girl with the kind smile.

"Sweetheart? What?" Ms. Carney's face was a cacophony of anguish. "Mary, when ever the Winchester's use it must be important. I…it's just…oh hell, never mind. Chick moment." The man laughed. "Okay, chick moment."

Dean ran a hand over his bruised face. 'Start as you mean to go on.' "Mary, my Dad said 'you know full well how dangerous things are getting now.' What did he mean?" Taking a page out of the Winchester handbook the keeper of Covenant secrets ran a hand over her face.

Then she reached up and pulled her messy bun out of its knot. The wooer of all things female watched in male fascination as she ran her finger through her hair. It stirred something in his stomach. He found the movement erotic. When she had completed the task, she sighed heavily.

"I gave you my word I would answer any question I am able, this is not one of them." The battler of things that go bump in the night could sympathize with her situation. However, if it could effect Sam… "Mary." Dean watched as her eyes hardened and her face became a mask. Nothing, you could read nothing. 'Holy shit.' It was unsettling to say the least.

"Please I just want to know if my brother is in danger." Her windows to the soul might still have been shut but her voice relayed that she understood, "no. Not at this point. When or if that changes, I will tell you. My word is my bond Dean." That was good enough for him. "Thank you Mary." Her eyes softened a little and she smiled at him. 'Nothing is more important than family.'

The exhausted nurse stretched her neck and yawned. The action was contagious, Dean followed suit. It had been a long emotionally draining day. Neither occupants of the corpulent coffin were very good at expressing the serious side of things cause when they did it all went to hell. Hence their need to be smart mouths, Mary's conversation with John had been a dozy. They looked at each other and in unison said, "sleep."

The female turned to get off the pillow tip mattress. "You know this is a king size bed and I am guessing way more comfortable than that couch out there." Sighing she put her hand of his shoulder, "Kansas, please." The normally a ladies man grasped the 'Kansas, please.' "Sweetheart, not that I wouldn't put out if you forced me too." Eyebrows giving her the wanna wanna. "It's a big bed and you could use a good night sleep." Dean knew he had her when she fluffed his pillow.

June 3, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

They sleep like the dead until the six foot one man's phone rang shrill at 5:30 in the morning. The well rested hunter was the first to make his heavy eyes open. Dean smiled when he realized Angel had her arm around his waist and he had a protective arm over her. His grin deepened when she opened her eyes and became cognizant of the same information.

Dean carefully watched her reaction not wanting to spook or startle her like he had previously. The wooer of all things female tentatively left his hand resting on her hip. She didn't buck or shutter, that was a good sign, right. Imagine the Great Dean Winchester questioning his actions with the opposite sex.

He shook his head and thought about it. This was the first time he spent an entire night with a woman, he always left after they were asleep. It also defiantly the first time he spent any time in bed with a woman and didn't get any. Maybe what he did get though was more important.

"Good Morning" the bedmates said in unison and laughed. Stretching Angel informed him, "I'll go make some cocoa." Then she rolled over not at all concerned that he still had not removed his hand. 'Hum,' he wondered absently. "You don't have to go." The son was a bit nervous about the impending conversation with his father.

"Yes Dean, I do. You get it out, don't let him off the phone and until you have said all you need to say. Do not hold it in. He is a big boy he can take it." As the five foot eight girl got out of bed she handed him his phone. Then she placed a burden lighting kiss to his still bump filled head and softly said virtus and animus. Dean laughed internally, strength and courage. This chick was defiantly one of a kind.

About an hour later the auburn hair girl knocked quietly on the door. "Come in Angel." The hunter hoped his voice was strong and even. His Angel opened the wooden barrier slowly and peeked around the corner. He cocked an eyebrow at her display. She smiled and said, "Just checking to make sure there is no blood or body parts strewn about." Dean laughed at her relaxation tactic, as his father said last night they really were made for each other. "No bodies fill the field's sweetheart." If she could quote rock, so could he.

After the all the clear the rest of her body followed the head. In her small hands was a serving try complete with breakfast. "Breakfast in bed Angel?" His body had that lazy man look. To bad for him his eyes betrayed what he was really feeling. Her pig tails swished, an eyebrow lifted. She would play along for now. "Yes sir, breakfast fit for a king." Chuckling he sat up straight. "I could get used to this."

The server laughed. "Breakfast in bed?" He laughed back. "Breakfast in bed with a sweet piece of ass to deliver it." Dean watched as his Angel's doe colored eyes twinkled with merriment. "Oh my dear boy don't you ever get tired?" He cocked his head, he knew what she was asking, "sometimes, but I have a reputation to maintain." Her head movement mirrored his, "Not with me Kansas. Just relax."

The two strays shared a breakfast of oatmeal, with peaches this time. Wheat toast covered with a generous supply of marmalade and of course cocoa. With a great big Cheshire cat grin the dirty blond said, "thank you Angel that was wonderful." Smiling kindly at her charge she replied, "you are most welcome sir, most welcome indeed."

After the meal was complete, the nursemaid cleaned up and shuffled out the door. When she returned the maltreated but starting to mend spirit hunter was changing. 'Yee hah.' The twenty seven year old thought. 'Even beat to hell he was handsome.' She wasn't lying when told him that.

"Wops. Leaving now." The five foot eight girl said and turned to give him privacy. Without stopping what he was doing the twenty six year old replied with a great deal of humor so as not to make her feel bad. "Because you haven't already viewed what I have to offer?" What ever she was going to say as a caustic reply died on her lips as Dean slowly his wrapped ribs kept the action measured, bent over to slip his Uggs from underneath the bed.

When the nicely sculpted man did this, the voyeur got a nice view of his ass. Not hearing anything from his cabin companion the well toned hunter turned around, "Angel?" She let out a whistle, "Kansas that is one mighty fine ass you got there." The normally cocky Winchester had the good grace to blush. "Thank you ma'mm."

Taking a moment to clear her image filled head the brown eyed girl found her voice. "What are you doing? And don't say getting dressed, that part I could figure out. Why? Were you intending on going someplace?" Dean didn't think he liked that look on her face, well maybe he did. It was just foreign to him to have some one care about him and show it. Usually he did the caring and showing. Okay his brand of showing but his brother and father still never had any doubts.

"Kansas?" There is it was the worry. He smiled he was warming to the idea of having someone just for him. "Sweetheart I like lounging in bed as much as the next guy, but when I can't convince the lady with the beautiful brown eyes to lounge with me… Then I have to find other pursuits to keep me occupied."

'Uh oh,' the young man thought and not for the first time. 'Where do they learn that look? I have got to know. Really I will even pay for the classes.' Those aforementioned beautiful brown eyes twinkled with something he didn't think he was all that comfortable with. She turned her head and lowered her voice. Then very seductively walked up to him, "Kansas, you really want me in your bed?" Dean swallowed as she put her petite hands on his waist, than ran them down his hips stopping at his upper thighs.

"Cause if that's what you really want," she brought her hands to his stomach and pushed him ever so gently onto the bed. Maintaining eye contact the trying her damnedist to be assertive Covenant member bent down and pulled the Uggs off at a leisurely pace, one at a time. Then she climbed on top of him steering him back towards the pillows. Bending her face down so it was less than an inch from his, "I would be happy to oblige,' the wooer of woman shuttered. 'Holy crap,' he never felt so out of control.

He watched rather uncomfortably as she scooted down he body, 'Criminey in the moon this was not the time for Big Timber Wiggly to make his presensce known. Okay normally yeah it would be, but not now and especially not with her. Dean could tell for all her bravado she was scared. Actually that was cold hard fear in her normally kind eyes.

No when he got her in bed she would be a willing participant. Till then he would have to be the bigger person. No he thought, not bigger person, cause bigger wasn't doing him any good at the moment. 'Better man,' yeah that worked. Smiling at him his Angel reached down and before he knew what she was doing the girl pulled the covers over him. Then straddled his tense body over the bedding.

"Angel, you are playing with fire sweetheart." Dean voice was husky and deep. The strained hunter tried not to move but his body jerked involuntarily as she shifted her weight. He could tell it in her face the exact moment she felt him. Dean took a deep breath he didn't know what she would say or do next and despite his current state he didn't want to startle her. It was obvious she wasn't a virgin but the almost omnipotent in the area of carnal pleasure Winchester could tell for all the brave girl was doing she wasn't that knowledgeable and defiantly not that comfortable with sex.

She brought her mesmerizing face down to his so they were freckled nose to freckled nose. "Thank you Dean." She rubbed her nose against his and slowly moved her body off of his, careful not to come in contact with Big Timber who felt like the thickest tree in the world.

'Thank you?' He was going to…right there. 'Get a fucking grip dude. Shit, not fucking. Just get a grip dude.' "Thank you? For what exactly?" The distressed man hoped his voice sounded okay, cause he was sure not feeling it. 'Wow,' he couldn't remember the last time he was this hard. The overly erect twenty six year old tried to breathe through his discomfort.

She giggled and looked down. "That." He tried to laugh as he looked down. 'How red was his face?' He so didn't want to know. "Sorry sweetheart guess Mr. Wiggly has a mind of his own." She laughed harder. He was trying to be a gentleman and she giggled. He put his hands on her arms, a little to roughly he gathered from the way the blood drained from her face. Her body froze, her eyes, 'holy shit' what had happened to this girl?

Dean quickly all be it gently released her. He figured the minute he did she would fly off the bed. Instead she just sat there. 'Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the horror of the shade. And yet the menace of the years finds, and shall find me, unafraid. His Angel was defiantly dauntless. Yes she was the bravest chick he knew. "Mary?" The recovering tracker of evil kept his voice even.

Without looking at him she responded. "I am sorry Dean. I just didn't want you to over exert yourself like you did yesterday. I figured if I used your tactics then maybe you'd… Teasing was the wrong thing to do. If you want me removed, I will tell Mr. Winchester." She sighed and finished, "anyhow, I overstepped my bounds, please forgive me."

The mentally and physically exhausted girl went to move thinking to pack her meager possessions. 'What was it with the Winchesters?' She and John were square. Why did she feel she owed him more? Again she put a hand to her rib. Hazel eyes watched the internal conversation and the unconscious hand gesture, again. As softly as he could the wooer took that hand. It stayed limp but didn't pull away. Dean massaged the inside of her palm. Not for the first time did he wonder what the fuck happen to his Angel.

"Mary, look at me. Please." Slowly her eyes came to meet his. They were blank, absolutely blank. To call it eerie would be the world's largest understatement. This was her defense tactic. Last night her face might have been a mask, today mother fucker. They all had unique talents. This was hers.

'Patience Dean, patience.' "Sweetheart. This situation isn't easy on any of us. Please don't hide from me." The dirty blond took a moment to let his words sink in. If he was waiting for a reaction he might as well have waited till sunflowers grew out his ass. His Angel just sat there unflinching. He was beginning to understand how the old man felt.

"About calling my Dad, fraid if you did that all he would do is laugh that my renowned powers over all things female failed. There was a girl out there immune to my…" he searched for a phrase. "…special talents." He stopped and looked at her. Nothing, absolutely zero.

'Okay Dean my boy, it ain't working this way.' The mending warrior changed stratagem, "If I am going to heal it is going to be with your help. You did what you thought was best, I won't fault you for that." Another phrase he picked up from his Dad. Dean smiled and went on. "Please forgive me Mary. I didn't mean to scare you."

Her large luminous chocolate eyes relaxed he could see emotions start to swirl in them. Attempting a little levity, "I take it you aren't ready to scale my tree?" She smiled, a small one but still, "No Dean I am not much of an arborist." It took him a second to realize she was joking, well halfway anyhow. "You want to tell me what happened?" Cause it was algetically clear to him that something did.

"Does it have anything to do with the scar?" He placed his hand over the damaged area. His Angel squeezed his hand and swallowed. "No that scar came later." Okeey dokey, she had multiple battle marks… Slowly Dean moved his still torn hand to her chin, moving it so they were eye to eye.

"How many scars do you have?" She closed her eyes to regroup. The pigtailed female didn't want to betray John's confidence. But she also didn't want to lie to Dean. "Do you want me to include the times I cut myself shaving my legs?" Brown eyes looked at him, right at him.

"All righty then. Why don't you go heat us a pot of cocoa. Then you can tell me the background of the scar that came later. After that we can go through the rest of the 'world's heaviest box.'" The slayer of demons knew the both needed a moment to regroup. "You trust me enough to share the rest of the contents?" She was serious he could tell. "You trust me enough to tell me what happened to you?" Was his solemn answer.

Oh man when he found out who did what to her, heaven help them all Dean knew he would kill the person. "Angel, I trust you with my life." As soon as the words exited his mouth he knew them to be true. She looked at him and with a tentative smile said. "Okay Kansas, I will tell you about the scar that came later. For now, one pot of steaming hot cocoa coming right up."

As soon as she was gone the discomforted man looked down at his tent pole, he couldn't believe he stayed up like this, her reaction should have killed his, 'ahh.' Absently he wondered is he had enough time while she made the hot beverages and for that matter if it would hurt worse than the pain he was feeling now. Dean put his marred hands on Mr. Wiggly, "dude I am so sorry. Normally I would take care of business give you some relief. Fraid neither of us are that lucky today."

About ten minutes later his Angel knocked questioningly on the door. Spooked apparently didn't mean stupid. "Its okay sweetheart, you can come in." The five foot eight caretaker opened the door and with small steps walked in. She put the sunflower covered carafe down and stood there. The owner of a distressed nether region could see the uncertainty in her eyes. 'What a fucker, the ass who hurt her.' "Angel its okay you can sit."

Gently she sat on the bed pulling her knees to her chest as she did. Dean laughed. Sam would do that all the time when he was younger. Dean told him when ever your scared and I am not there roll yourself into a protective ball. "Angel it's cool. I am not mad."

The still apprehensive female sighed deep, it was defiantly Winchester worthy. "You have every right to be and you should be. Dean I feel terrible." Laughing he replied, "trust me not as bad as I do. Angel I might have the right, but I am not." She half chocked, half laughed. "I am not used to inspiring that type of reaction in man."

Raising his eyes to her level, he cocked an eyebrow. He could tell she didn't think she was beautiful. He wondered if whatever happened is what made her fell that way. 'Dead, the ass that did this would be dead.' It would be some time before the hunter found out about the event that made his Angel the way she was. After he would hear the story he would know there was no left to kill. They were all gone now. At the present he would have to be content to learn about the scar that came later.

"Course I don't spend a lot of time with guys my own age." He cocked the other eyebrow his Angel continued her eyes far away. He wondered where she was and what the video was that was playing. "With the Covenant, I do most of my contacting by phone. Think of me as the conduit. Besides even if I do meet with the hunters they know that I am off limits. Not that any of our boys are that desperate too need to slum it. They all might not be as handsome as you, but they aren't hard to look at either." The hunter let out a strangled sigh. "Slum it? And thank you for the compliment."

She raised an eyebrow like he had, "please Kansas you might be the cock of the walk, but I am not going to set anyone's world on fire." He didn't even see that she bit a lip after she said that. His mom how could she be so calloused? The Covenant member need not have worried. The convalescing Winchester didn't reregister the slip; instead he said sincerely, "You light up my life."

Her freckled nose scrunched at the earnest statement. Mary was not used to or comfortable receiving compliments. "Oh Kansas, why don't we check out your box. Cause is we keep going I think I might scream." He held out his cup, "One day sweetheart, I will make you scream and you will enjoy it." A big overly exaggerated sigh was the only response he received. Still she didn't say no.

His Angel poured the steaming liquid into his mug. Dean went to take a sip, "hold on Kansas." Her small compared to his right hand opened from the fist she had it in. Three mini marsh mellows were plopped into the sunflower covered ceramic.

"How many scars do you have?" He broached after they had calming sips of their hot chocolate. His Angel took a bolstering sip and set her mug down. "Was I to include the shaving ones?" Dean smiled at her attempt at humor and deflection. "Hunting related battle reminders." Sighing she pointed to the areas. Except for the one he had already viewed, they were in a pattern. Latter, he would go there later.

"Your ribs look like a knife…" The warrior against the dark mused letting the sentence hang. "That it does." She agreed. Okay his Angel and Sammy would get along real well. "Mary." Sighing the five foot eight Irish girl went on. "Ka Bar actually." Mother fucker, a Ka Bar and she was still alive.

"Who knifed you and why?" His Angel placed a hand on his. "Thank you for the anger and the unspoken I want to kill the mother fucker. Am afraid someone beat you to it. The body has already been torched and buried." He swallowed. 'Body. That meant human not demon.' "Yes Dean a human. Though they were possessed by a demon."

He laughed, "are you sure you are not a mind reader?" His Angel laughed at the reiterated of a question he had asked her when she knew what he was thinking. "I was with your Dad." She swallowed at the look that came across his face. "With my Dad? Meaning on a job?" Dean knew his eyes registered shock and probably hurt. His fuck head father had left him out of jobs before, but with a girl. Granted a nice girl who had done well by him, but still.

The Covenant member waited for the twenty six year old to finish his silent dialogue. "With your father. Not on a job. An information drop. I had discovered something in my research that could help him with a project. We were leaning against his tailgate discussing what I had given him and no I can't tell you what it was, so please don't ask." He sighed and touched her hand. "I understand Angel you have a code to live by. Go on."

"We had just finished go over what had been exchanged. Your Dad had helped me with something, he wanted to make sure all was well and…" Her brown eyes looked off into the distance. 'Something.' He knew the something was what was important but he also knew he couldn't push. The stiff necked twenty seven year old rubbed the offender and went on.

"You know that feeling. The pit of your stomach feeling?" He nodded. Before I could stop and assess John handed me a side arm and pulled me behind a tire. We were boxed in." Dean remembered a patched bullet hole in the truck his Dad never explained. He shook his head and went back to listening. "The shots were rapid and erratic."

He cocked an eyebrow, "they were trying to flush you out?" She nodded. "After that they sent things flying, rocks, branches, throwing stars… they…" Brown eyes stared at him and put her hands up in the universally excepted hand gesture for air quotes. "…wanted the book I had given your Dad. Anyhow, we rolled and took up defensive positions. I took down three of the assailants, your father half a dozen."

The hunter stared at his Angel. She understood. "I said I didn't hunt with the ferocity of the Winchester's. Doesn't mean I don't know how to handle a gun." 'There is a difference between handling a gun and calmness in a firefight. She capped three guys? H o l y f u c k, there was a lot he didn't know about his Angel.'

"You are wondering if I am the good person you thought I was earlier or …" The tormented nursemaid let the statement fall off. "No Angel. When Sammy exiled himself to Cali, I drove him out. It killed me but I did it. By the time I arrived back in Blue Earth I knew even though I hate girl talk that my Dad and I had a few things to discuss. Our dynamic had changed and …"

The patient took a deep breath, "…Anyhow he said 'it takes an iron fortitude in a man to walk into battle not knowing if he will live or die. Not caring as long as he saves his fellow solider in arms. You have an indomitable strength Dean.'" He eyed his Angel, "You have an indomitable strength sweetheart." And soon he would find out she saved her fellow solider in arms…

The indomitable strength Angel tilted her head at her charge. "Thank you for the compliment Dean." He bowed his head. She went back to telling the apparition tracker the story. "Everything stopped, nothing moved, the bodies were dead. Your Dad and I looked at each other then stood up cautiously, I heard it before I saw it. The blade flew right at him. Instinctively I knocked him out of the way. The knife landed between…" The memory relater pulled her shirt up, "…these two ribs."

Dean swallowed and gently touched the long since healed area. Tears stung her eyes but his Angel would not let them fall. "I rocked back and John caught me. I coughed up blood all over him. He just laid me down on the ground gently." Wide hazel eyes looked at her, then the scar. "I owed your Dad. Not really how I wanted to balance the scales…" 'She owed his Dad, why?'

"John applied pressure to the wound which was leaking blood like a sieve. Then he located the knife thrower and one shot, a head tap later the guy was history." The listener swallowed, his Dad saved this girl who saved him. A wound to that area, she could have bleed out. "He torched the bodies and got me to the hospital. Thankfully we were in a Covenant friendly area. I lost a lot of blood…" Before he realized what he was doing Dean touched the scar, 'I'll bet you did."

His Angel placed a hand over his squeezed and let go. "Your father wouldn't leave me. I told him it was okay. He was to meet you in Wyoming. I could see the guilt warring all over his face. He didn't want you to think you had been abandoned, but he also didn't want to leave me alone." The healing abolisher of evil thought about it.

The argument they had when his Dad finally showed up. "Dean, can we not argue? Please son, I have had a rough couple of days." The son had been in no mood to put up with what he thought was his fathers getting side tracked by something. "So have I. What the hell Dad? I thought you were just picking up intel…" The son swallowed. His Angel was the reason his father was missing from their job.

"How long were you in the hospital? Who stayed with you when my Dad left?" Dean knew his Dad didn't leave her alone no he would have made sure there was someone to watch over her. He gritted his back teeth, this is why she said, "Please John for me," this was what she meant. The twenty seven year old sighed.

"About two weeks. St Bridget must have been looking out for me the blade missed my lung and anything vital. Your Dad called Landon and after having a heart attack the poor man flew down to South Dakota land of the White Spruce. Imagine my Landers on a plane."

The hunter cocked his head, 'her Landers?' Who the hell was Landers? The storyteller didn't miss the look on her charges face. "Landon doesn't like to fly, he is of the general opinion if you can't drive there it isn't worth going too." Dean grudgingly had to agree with 'her Landers.'

"Kate got there the following day. Your father refused to leave me alone. He told me you would yell at him, but to you the important thing was that he was there. He could deal with your being upset, he could not deal with me dying. Still Dean I feel bad…"

He smiled at his Angel, "I think we are even sweetheart…" Before he could ask her anything else she talked on, "to answer your next questions, Landon is my employer's son and the closest I will ever have to a brother." The dirty blond didn't miss the emphasis on the word brother. "And Kate is my bestest friend and Landon's, what ever the hell they want to call it." The wooer raised an eye. "Another story for another time." Was her response.

"And the other scars?" Dean thought hey if she was in the sharing mood. "Maybe one day Kansas, but not today." He reached a still contused hand over to her smooth one. "Not maybe. One day, but I understand, not today."

The brown eyed girl looked her bedmate in his kind hazel eyes. "Know when that day comes Dean, that you will be the only person I will have shared the information with." Hazel eyes blinked, "you suffered through what ever caused the wounds alone?"

Her beautiful brown eyes closed. "Yes. The aftermath no, there was a very kind but gruff older man who helped me through. Dean closed his hazel eyes, 'his father could be a very kind but gruff, he would never call him older because his Dad would probably smack him on principal for it, man.' No Jonathon Dean Winchester wasn't always a bastard.

The rest of the day was spent continuing the trek through the world's heaviest box. After taking good sips of their respective drinks the now flag at rest twenty six year old opened the lid. He pulled out the card on top. A three year old Sammy made his big seven year old brother Dean for Christmas. Their Dad helped him with writing the words.

Normally his bestest brother helped him with everything from school to picking out clothes. But as this was a gift for the brother in question he couldn't ask him for help. Both Dean and Mary had a good chuckle over the size of the letters. The M was about 5 inches high the rest of the letters went down hill from there.

In the corner was a symbol. The girl pointed to it. The man just smiled his eyes somewhere else in his memory. One day the twenty seven year old would learn of it's significance and it would make her cry. To think at three and seven…

The card underneath that made Dean's face tighten. His Angel looked at him, "you don't have to share anything if it makes you uncomfortable." He smiled, "no Angel it's cool. I might be uncomfortable but maybe the reason it's the world's heaviest box is because I carry the weight of world in it. Sharing it will lighten the load."

The pigtails flopped over her shoulders as she turned her head she was humbled at the statement within the statement. He admitted to carrying his life in a box and trusted her to help shoulder the burden. The wooden chest was full of sacred pieces of everyday life that made up Dean's memory lane. They would travel that road together.

The dirty blond handed her the card. Happy Birthday Son was written in gold scroll across the top, a big tree underneath it. After studying the leaves it looked like it might have been a red maple. Mary swallowed sensing she was about to be let in to a part of Dean's life that helped shape him into the man he was today. She opened the card and instantly recognized John Winchester's distinct block letters.

_My Little Imp, I do hope you are able to have a Happy Birthday. Sammy worked hard on everything. Extra Oreo's, the perfect gift, making sure he got all words to the song right. I want you to know Dean you are the best son in the world. I can think of no one I would rather have watching my back, you are without a doubt the bravest man I know. I love you never doubt that. Dad_

The girl currently wearing a tee shirt that ironically had a tree on the front and 'climb one' on the back folded the card closed. The older hunter loved his son. 'Never doubt that.' Wow, the pain John was in when he wrote that card… Her heart went out to both the Dad and his boy. "It was from my ninth birthday. My Dad told me years later he had another card picked out but changed it to this one."

His Angel heard the no longer Ugg wearing man swallow. Softly she asked, "Why did he change cards?" Dean looked away at the memory the card brought to the front of his mind. "Because the first one had a barn on it." She smoothed her hand over the card. "Like you told Sam, he is not always a bastard." The bravest man John Winchester knew laughed. "Not always, but sometimes."

After that card she picked up a square looking something wrapped in paper towels. When the brown eyed girl opened the flower covered paper covering the contents made her close those eyes. 'Oh these poor boys.' She silently wondered what Sam kept in his special box. Or for that matter what John kept in his.

"Kid made me a cake on my last birthday. My father and I were in Mill Valley, California not that far from Sammy. He called with his annual birthday call. I stepped out side the funky ass place we were staying so he and I could talk." He gave her a look that said, 'you know brother talk.' Which she translated as 'the ability to speak freely.'

"Sam was upset our Dad hadn't wished me a happy fucking birthday. Joking with him I said yeah, fucking had a lot to do with it. Then boom my phone gets slammed out of my hand. My father looked at me and none to nicely told me, just so you know son, fucking did have a lot to do with it. I loved your mother so fucking much. We had you and your brother."

Mary bit her lip it must have been hard for John. His eldest son's birthday must have brought memories he tried to keep buried to the surface. "That's how I felt." Dean said. Then he went on. "Now, when you call your brother back, tell him your fucking father said, we will see you in a couple of hours."

He ran a hand over the chunky candles with black cars on them. "I was in shock, see my brother on my birthday, with my father, the three of us in one place. My heart was pounding. Like you said earlier to dear old dad, there is nothing more important than family. Imagine me having mine together for a day, I could think of no greater present." She ran a hand over the candles. This family was so fucked up.

"When Dad and I finally arrived the little shit had made lunch and a cake, even hung one of those shiny metallic signs that says happy birthday. These candles were on the cake." Mary understood. They were his connection to a truly happy birthday. With the utmost care the nursemaid folded them back up.

Under the candles was a brown envelope. The girl noticed how her charge stared at it intently, almost as if he was trying to burn a hole through it. When she put a hand on it he tensed, unlike he had at any other time including his ridiculous show of brawn outside. Hum, he might want to travel the road, but ever path had bumps. They would navigate those and take detours.

Her hand just moved it aside and instead grabbed a small folded piece of paper. The still bruised twenty six year old visibly relaxed. Double hum, okay big bumps, long detours. The folded yellow note pad piece of paper that John was renowned for carrying turned out to be a get out of jail free card. She cocked a questioning eyebrow. "A long story. It was a gift from my Dad. One day Angel, but not today." That was good enough for her.

They spent the rest of the day looking, laughing and crying. Dean was a great storyteller. The auburn haired girl laughed so hard at the beginning of the great water balloon grenade day story he actually became embarrassed. Of course thinking back on it, his Dad face dripping with water was kinda funny. Wasn't then, but now. Ha.

"Kansas I am sorry, now I know where your Dad learned to sigh like he does. You and your brother were very inventive." His face sheepish, "Yeah I guess we were. Although if you want to get technical about it. We were just following his lead. Dean one day you will have plan and execute your own tactical exercise. That's what I did."

Her brown eyes swirled, he knew what she was going to say before she said it. Out of nowhere a song popped into his head. …I need an Angel, angel in my life… Dean looked over at her his hazel eyes shimmering with an emotion that went completely against his code. …**little Angel**, angel here tonight. I need an Angel by my side… Who knew that **Bad Company** could read his thoughts?

Okay, the nearly truncated man had to admit, maybe his Dad did know a little more than Dean gave him credit for. …I am waiting for an Angel, angel here tonight… The ghost hunter's throat tightened, 'guess I am not waiting any more.' …Little Angel, angel shine your light, I need an Angel by my side… "You have my word I will not leave you until you tell me to go." Go he hoped she never went anywhere.

"That would be how you got out of a sound spanking or an equally torturous way of making you falling in line without leaving any scars?" He cocked an eyebrow back. "No." She gulped. "No, you got a spanking?" "Yes." Dean went to continue, her eyes stopped him. Compassion. "No sweetheart it wasn't like that. He only smacked once and that was after I practically begged him." Mary brought her hand to rest on the hunter's cheek. "You asked your Dad to turn you over his knee?"

The asker understood, "it was only one swat and to be honest it wasn't even remotely hard." She raised an eye. "Trust me…" he pointed to himself and shrugged. "…It might be few and far between, but you always remember a physical reprimand given by John Winchester. When that man spanked you couldn't sit comfortably for days." His Angel applied a little pressure to his cheek and let her hand fall. "Don't worry just listen it all works out in the end."

August 25, 1989Blue Earth, Minnesota

"Okay Sammy, one more time. Check the target, stand, aim, and rapid fire. Got it?" A nine year old Dean asked his cool brother extraordinaire. The older boy looked over at Jim and nodded that all was good. The house owner had asked the little domestic for help cleaning his cellar the day before.

When they were spic and spanning they came across an old dusty box marked junk. The contents weren't junk at all they were left over party supplies. Upon seeing the bright yellow balloons the young destined to be demon hunter had an idea. When they had completed their task Dean asked Jim if he had any plans for the canary festival favors.

"No" the nine year old was informed. The older man asked Dean if he could think of a use. He listened to what the little one had to say. 'Oh my boy.' Jim agreed that with his supervision the boys could use his balloons, he only hoped his good friend Jonathon would appreciate the hard work.

Coming out of his musing the Pastor smiled at the two boys and nodded back. Then he motioned with his head that he was going inside. Dean gave him a salute and turned his attention back to his brother. Taking his small fingers the brother in question pushed his mind of his own hair out of his eyes.

"Got it Dean, " five year old Sam Winchester answered when he could see. The older of the two smiled at the younger. The little one was wearing a hand me down shirt. Proudly. Dean swallowed when he remembered how excited Sam was when he gave it to him. "Really, I can fits in it now?"

The two siblings crouched behind the large fallen red pine in Jim Murphy's expansive back yard area. John had informed his mini hunters he was going to show the fine art of grenade tossing. Sam and Dean wanted to impress their Dad show him that they knew a little something and were ready. That he hadn't made a mistake in his decision.

The older brother came up with the bright idea of practicing with the balloons after seeing them when he helped Jim to set his cellar to rights. Given the go ahead by the adult Dean informed Sam of his thought. They brothers talked about it and convinced the good man of the Lord to get up early with them to audit the practice session.

The boys knew that doing this without adult supervision would be breaking one of John's big rules. No one wanted that to happen. Breaking a big rule meant not finding chairs appealing for a while. Jim helped the bantam warrior's tack a makeshift target on one of big trees that littered the mammoth property. Then together the three of them rolled a fallen one about ten feet from the bull's eye.

The hazel eyed Winchester crouched next to his brother who was at the ready. "On three Sammy." Brown green eyes looked at him, giving him a thumps up. Dean smiled and ruffled the kids brown hair. Then counted one, two, three out on his fingers. As soon as he hit three the two lobbed their 'grenades' at the target. Unfortunately in the time they hunkered down and the time they tossed their father had taken up residence in the pathway.

"Dean Christopher and Samuel John, what in the hell are you doing?" John Winchester bellowed, his face soaking wet, his dark eyes raging. Dean Christopher and Samuel John swallowed. Their father looked at them with no give on his face, "well."

Jim Murphy heard the yell and came running from the kitchen his heart racing. He watched as a normally even at nine confidant Dean looked on the verge of tears. His rolled when he saw Sam slip his little hand in Dean's and the older one squeezed the younger ones almost as if it were a lifeline.

The former Chaplin double timed it down the steps and over to the militarized zone. "Jonathon." He started to say keeping his voice even. He didn't want to frighten the boys any more than they already were. "Stay out of this Jim." The hunter cut his friend off. "No. I will not. You are scaring the boys, can't you see they are terrified?"

John brought his eyes from his former unit mates to his sons. When he saw the look in Dean's hazel eyes, her eyes the father flinched. Then without another word he turned and walked away. The starting to gray at the temples man of cloth watched as the older one bit his lip, the poor boy didn't want to cry. Wanted to remain strong for Sam.

Jim knew the boy thought his Dad didn't love him anymore, just in case that included his cool brother extraordinaire he battled to keep his emotions under wraps no need to let his sibling in on how he failed them both before it was absolutely necessary. Sam turned into his brother's protective hug, "I so sorry Craven." Dean rubbed Sam's back, "nothing to be sorry about Amos."

The Pastor ran after the leatherneck. The former recon Marine had made it all the way to the lake that bordered the Murphy family estate by the time Jim caught up with him. "Jonathon." Whatever else the former Chaplin was going to say after that died on his lips when his oldest and most dearest friend turned to him. Big fat unmanly tears streaming down his checks. "Jim, they were afraid of me." The father pointed to his chest then, "me." His strong baritone voice broke. "What have I done?"

Buttoning his flannel shirt at the early morning wind the other man answered the question. "You have done the best you could with what you have. But Jonathon you have to remember that all though they are Winchesters they are still children. Even Dean. He needs reassurance as much as Sam does that you love them. Maybe even more. Sam has Dean. Who does that boy have?" The father chocked down a sob, " No one, my boy has no one. Oh Mary, please send him an Angel."

The landowner could see past the marks that marred his body straight to through to John's tortured soul. He reached over and pulled his friend into an embrace. When the other man didn't fight it, Jim knew the campaign that was wagging in John's heart. Cupping his buddies back the father pulled back and ran a hand over his face, his could feel the wetness on his cheek. Absently he ran a finger down the scar on his right cheek. Years later he would leave a similar one under Dean's eye.

With a dolorous heart he queried the situation. "So what were my mini Marine's doing?" Jim laughed, "trying to impress you. Your homemaker was helping me clean and put the cellar into proper order yesterday. We came across an old box that had the balloons in it." As the former Chaplin was explaining he picked a piece of canary yellow rubber off his friends gray thermal shirt. John attempted to smile at the action.

"Anyhow Dean asked if they could use these handy little inventions as practice grenades. Apparently you were going to show them the fine art of aiming and tossing at the target. Your mini Marine's wanted to impress you and show you that they at least had good aim and such." The father shook his head, 'balloons as grenades.' Both older men looked over at the boys.

Dean had taken down the target and handed it to Sam. His small shaking hands placed it in the carrier his eyes wide staring at his older wiser brother, then before his sibling could do anything else, the five year old launched himself into his bestest brother's arms. After squeezing the moppet tight Dean placed a reassuring kiss to the top of his head.

Neither military man could move their gaze. They watched as the youngsters walked the basket back to the cellar. The men continued to observe the boys go into the dark room and leave the basket. Which Jim knew the older one put back on the shelf marked party supplies. When the brothers came out of the door the little one's hand was tight in big ones. They sat on the bottom step. Sam rested his head into Dean's consoling embrace.

The father knew the older one figured a punishment was eminent. He wasn't going to run and hide. No, he was going to face it head on. Just like John taught him. 'Stand your ground, never run, that spells fear, never show fear.' "You know what that boy is thinking, don't you?" Jim questioned the Dad of the two sad looking children on the stairs. John ran an unsteady hand through his hair. "Yeah he is thinking I am going to paddle his behind but good."

The churchman shook his head. "You promised Mary and yourself you would never turn into your father. Change their perspective now. Because as it stands that boy thinks you are going to beat him because you stood in the middle of a tactical exercise after they had already checked the perimeter." John raised an eye.

"I had been watching the whole thing. They knew they weren't allowed to be outside alone, especially with what they were doing. I just went in to get them warm drinks. It is only…" The man checked his watch, "twenty after five in the morning. Didn't want them to catch pneumonia in their pursuit to make you proud."

The heartbroken father looked at his friend and then over to his boys, his wonderful boys. The older one had a tight arm around the younger one and was speaking softly into Sam's ear. No doubt telling him how he would take the fall. He was the eldest, it was his idea Sam was just following his lead.

John told Dean if you are the leader you take responsibilities for the actions of your team. The nine year old knew how bad a spanking from his Dad was he wanted to save his little brother from the discomfort. Oh John might have swatted the kid, but full on paddle him, no. The father could see the wheels turning in the dirty blonds head, 'it was his idea he'd take the impending physical reprimand.'

The thirty two year old went to move. His friend stayed him with a hand on his arm. "You have one chance to fix this. Don't miss use it." The father stared at the cleric he knew the man was right. "Will you sit with Sammy while I talk with Dean?" Jim raised his eyes at the suggestion a trace amount of apprehension in his speech. "You don't mean to punish the boy?"

John ran a hand over his weeks worth a beard. "Heavens no, he and I need to speak alone. I don't want Sammy to be scared or misunderstand. As you pointed out Dean needs the reassurance. Please. " Jim looked over at the boy in question his little dirty blond head was resting on his younger brothers. Before his throat could constrict tighter he responded, "Okay Jonathon, I will sit with Samuel."

The vitiated father kept his eyes glued to his sons as he walked towards them. When Dean saw this he stood up. So did Sam. His eldest squared his shoulders and steadied his strong Winchester chin. The tyke was at attention right next to his brother. As the father got closer his little one slipped a reassuring hand in his siblings. All though bolstering for whom was anyone's guess.

Dean held Sam's tight, but never took his eyes off his father. 'Never take your eyes off your opponent.' When John stood in front of them he could see his cargo pants clad nine year olds face was blank, a mask of nothing. 'Why oh why did he have to teach him a poker face?' The man thought to himself.

Sam on the other hand was worried. The brown haired little one tried to hide it and not show the enemy his colors. But his concern for Dean and what his father was going to do to his bestest brother outweighed attempting to be the tough guy.

"Sir." The taller of his two soldiers's started to get out. Without meaning to sound menacing the former gunny said "tacet." When he did he saw momentary panic and terror blaze through the hazel eyes, her eyes. Dean knew when his father used Latin he meant business. He followed the order and remained silent.

John heard Jim come up behind him. The trying to do the right thing in the only way he knew how Dad could almost hear the Pastor's thoughts. "Please be kind to him Jonathon." 'Start as you mean to go on.' His friend stepped next to him, "Samuel why don't you come with me?"

The five year olds brown green eyes looked from his Dad's stern face to Jim's understanding one. Then came a reaction no one expected, "No Jim, I am going to stay with Dean. We are in this together." Three heads turned to look at Samuel John Winchester. John was the first to react. "Samuel you will go with Jim. That is an order."

His youngest bit his bottom lip but would not be dissuaded. He looked John dead in the eye, his stare unwavering. In that moment the man knew this was the boy he would have the most battles with. He closed his eyes and tried not to notice the swallow his older son gave.

"Sammy it will be okay. I will be okay. Remember what I said." The resignation of a long walk to the gallows was unmistakable in the nine year olds voice. "Please, you go with Jim. He will take good care of you." Dean looked at his parent as if to implore him to not to hurt his brother.

The little one proudly clad in Dean's shirt hugged his sibling and whispered, "But Dad's gonna take care of you and you told me together we can get through anything." Before the John lost his nerve he snapped. "Don't make me tell you twice Samuel." Brown green eyes bore into him, the man knew the midgets acquiesce had more to do with the Dean's words than his fathers implied threat. "Yes sir."

Jim held his hand to Sam the young boy took it and slowly climbed the stairs. When he reached the landing the cool brother extraordinaire gave his bestest brother in the world a look, no auditory volume was needed to convey the message. 'Together we can get through anything.' Silent brother communication in action, again. With his hand still in Jim's the moppet gave Dean an encouraging smile and headed inside.

John turned to his eldest who was back to staring straight ahead, unmoving. "Dean, why don't we go for a walk?" It wasn't until he saw the color drain from his strong willed son's face that he realized what the kid was thinking. That his Dad was going to find a place out of Sam's earshot to discipline him.

'Oh Mary, I am so sorry I have failed you and our boys.' Stoically his little solider followed him his face was set. The nine year old figured he broke the rules. His boy was ready to face what ever lay ahead. The Dad walked them over to the rocks near the lake where he and Jim had stood moments earlier.

They were more like boulders big enough you could sit on. The father slowly rested his tired bag of bones on one of the stones. When Dean saw this he moved to bend over his Dad knee. John stopped him with an upturned hand. 'Oh hell, Mary please give me the strength and the words too.'

His son looked him in the eye. Then valiantly put a hand to the button on his pants. The embattled man swallowed at his son's bravado. He put his hand over his boys. "No Dean." Those big hazel eyes looked at him. "It's okay sir. I know I earned my punishment." 'Oh Dean, my courageous little man.'

"Sit with me Imp." John said quietly. His son's intrepid face faltered at the use of their special name. "Sir?" The kid didn't understand. "Dean there won't be any punishment. I am not going to spank you. Please son you can call me Dad." The boy bit his lip. "Oh."

John didn't get this reaction he thought that would make Dean relax. Instead it made his mini me even tense. "Son?" He questioned. "Sir." John sighed, "You say sir one more time and I will revise the not going to paddle your bum statement." That only served to make Dean bit his lip harder. He really didn't know what to do John could see that.

"Boy what is wrong? Do you want me to turn you over my knee?" The worried father tried to determine what was wrong with his son. 'Fuck,' he was no good at this stuff, not for the first time that morning did he wish Mary were with him. Course if she were, his boys would be learning to toss footballs not grenades. 'Oh hell.'

His little one just looked at him, saying nothing. Gently but firmly he grabbed his son's arms. "Dean, please talk to me." His son flinched when his Dad's hands connected with his bare skin. "Yes sir, I want you to smack me."

John didn't know how to respond to that. Reluctantly he turned his son around and swatted his behind. No real force just enough it would sting. The father hoped it would knock some sense into his boy. Dean started to cry the Dad couldn't comprehend where this was coming from. He knew it wasn't from the swat kid had hit himself harder falling off a tree branch. "No sir, hit me. Harder."

John grabbed his boy who was sobbing in earnest now. He pulled him into a tight embrace, praying to the Angels above he was doing the right thing. "Dean, please its okay." His little one was crying so hard his body was shuttering. The father just held his boy tighter yet, rubbing circles on his back hoping they would have a calming effect.

After a few minutes his normally even keeled progeny stopped the racking sobs and wound down to hiccupping tears. John persevered with the circular motions. Eventually the nine year old just went limp in his arms, his hazel eyes glassy and framed with red rims.

"Dean please talk to me. I promise whatever you say I won't get mad." His kid the one who was never at a loss for something to say remained mute. John though of all the times he wished for a mute Dean. This was not one of them.

The unsettled man felt tears sting his eyes. One of them had the audacity to leak from his eye down through his beard off his chin and land on his son's hand. Those red rimmed hazel eyes looked at him. The disheartened father could see the absolute desolate sadness in them.

Then his little rabble rouser, learning to toss a grenade, but still his baby hugged him just like he had Dean moments earlier. "Please Dad, it's okay." The Dad came out rushed and tentative as if he wasn't sure if he should say it. His small hand rubbed circles on his father's big back. For quite some time the two Winchesters stayed like that.

When John thought he could formulate sentences he said in a very calm manner. "Imp?" Dirty blond hair bobbed in front of him and without looking up Dean said, "I am sorry we struck you in the face with the balloon Dad. We did like you showed us with hunting. 'When planning a tactical exercise make sure you check your perimeter for variables.'" John smiled at hearing his instructions repeated back to him.

"I should have realized what was a foot. Some Recon Marine I was." The father joked with his son hoping to elicit a smile. "Still it doesn't excuse hitting you." Dean replied quietly no upturned lips in sight. The poor child was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, on his backside. "In this case it does. You did everything right, I made the mistake."

The dirty blond head bobbed again this time his boy's eyes gazed up at him. John seized the moment. "Do you want to tell me why you wanted me to spank you?" The head went down and from somewhere near his almost dry shoulder region he heard a voice ask. "Do I have to?" The Dad pondered that, it wasn't like Dean to escape and evade. Of course the last hour was abnormal for his son.

"Yes Dean you do." The little one looked at him and asked him in a very somber tone, "couldn't I just take the whipping?" John raised an eye, "no. Dean why would you want me to hit you?" His child's answer brought him to his preverbal knees. "Because then you would love me again." Swallowing the lump that had lodged firmly in his throat the father continued on his quest.

"You think I don't love you?" His son's completely serious face looked at him. Dean serious was eerie, the kid ways always the life of a situation. The tyke learned early on if everyone laughed, then they relaxed, if they relaxed they could be happy.

The small warrior took a deep breath and went for broke, "You were mad. I thought if you were mad enough than you would decide it wasn't worth it like you told Jim. Then where would we be?" Before John could interrupt his the engine that could rolled on.

"You told me if you gave my backside a talking too it was only because you cared. You didn't want too. It meant it wasn't worth the effort. Meaning I wasn't worth it anymore." Dean sighed and took another bolstering breath, "I know you told me I take care of the family good. But I don't know if I could take care of me and Sammy by myself…"

It was the father's turn to bite his lip. 'Oh Angels above.' He pulled his son into a hug resting his chin on the kid's head. Then much like Dean had earlier with Sam the Dad placed a reassuring kiss to the place where his chin had been. "Dean, scoot up on my knee." Hazel eyes looked up at him questioningly. "Up not over." The little one eased his way up. John put an arm around him.

"Son, you have cleaned my back enough. Do you remember the white marks?" He could tell his progeny didn't know where this was going. But figured his Dad might still love him so he would go with it. "Yes," came the small reply. "Your grandfather left those marks, with a belt." His child looked at him thoughtfully. "You hit my bum with your belt and you didn't leave any lines." John swallowed, thinking about that night still hurt. "No I didn't. It all has to do with force and aim."

Dean pondered what his father said. "You had good aim Dad, and it hurt bad. I could feel the force." For everything his boy was still only nine. The father chuckled at the statement despite the utmost sincerity with which it was said. It hurt because he had spanked the daylights out of him. Anything harder than a hand would have hurt, but force John connected only hard enough so that Dean would feel something and know he got the punishment promised.

"Yes I had good aim and I know it hurt. That was the point. But the reason you punish someone is because they broke a rule, a rule that was in place to protect them. If you break a rule and nothing happens you do it again. Have you broken that rule again?" Cargo pants rustled against John's blue jeans, Dean answered the question while looking at his Dad's hand the same that had spanked him. "No."

Taking a deep breath John continued, "And you know the rules, I explained them to you, along with what would happen if you broke the rules?" Still not moving his gaze Dean replied, "Yes sir. When I am on a job and tell you can't come with me. I mean no. If I find you there I will paddle your bum so hard you won't sit for a week. You will feel the leather from my belt on your backside. Dean do you understand what I have told you?" The father smiled at his child's impression of him. "Not a bad reenactment son." The reenactor smiled a little at that.

"Your grandfather wasn't as straight forward about the rules and punishments. He would make them up as he went along. When that happens a punishment goes from a reprimand to violence. To him the only way to have a relationship with his son was through violence. The lines on my back are because he swung wild and mean." Dean tilted his head down, "you were only mean once." John closed his dark eyes at the memory of the barn. "And that was cause I scared you. You told me everyone makes mistakes."

The abused son talked on with his own boy. "Yes you did scare me and it was a mistake to smack you like that. It was a reaction to seeing my still eight year old almost beheaded. My father was mean all the time. He thought it would make a better man out of me."

The nine year old tilted his head but still avoided eye contact, "you tell me all the time I am a good little man. And you almost never spank me, only when I have broken the really big rules. Why didn't he have rules like that?" John shook his head sadly "I don't know Dean." The father touched his son's chin, "Look at me." Worried hazel eyes looked at him.

"Dean when I bellowed earlier it was because I was startled by what you did and my first reaction was to yell. When I saw your face it reminded me of me when I was your age. I walked away not because I didn't love you, but because I did." John could see his small solider was trying to understand.

"Do you remember when we had to stitch Sammy's knee and you told me your heart hurt watching it?" The older brother nodded and said, "Yeah I do, I couldn't take away the pain." The thirty two year old left his hand on Dean's chin to keep the little ones eyes on him, "exactly how I felt. I couldn't take away your pain and my heart hurt."

The man ran his hand through his dark brown hair the let it rest in his lap. "When I saw the look on your face, I thought you wouldn't love me anymore." Dean slipped his little hand in his fathers much bigger one. "It's okay Dad. I love you." One simple phrase, it was balm to his heart. The hunter hugged his son tight.

"Now Dean when did you hear me say to Jim you wouldn't be worth it? Think carefully before you answer son both lying to me and intentionally ease dropping are on your list of rules not to break, the big ones." The father felt his son shift. Big ones meant he was going from sitting on his Dad's knee to laying over it. John stilled him with a gentle hand to the thigh.

"I wasn't ease dropping, well as least I didn't mean it. You told us if we were going to sit up and play Candy Land we could have some of Jim's warm milk." The Dad smiled, Jim always kept chocolate milk in the house. "So I was heating the milk and I heard Jim yell at you and you yell back." The father watched his son's lip quiver. 'What did I say?'

Dean rushed on so as to get it out and over with. "Sometimes I don't even think they are worth it anymore. Sammy and especially Dean." John's smile crashed. The crestfallen father chose his next words very carefully. "Do you know why there was a rule against not listening to conversations?"

He could just imagine the hell his boy had been it, hearing those words ring in his head. Dean's lip rolled between his teeth. His little body shifted, he was prepared for whatever lay ahead. Even if it meant a punishment because his Dad decided he did break a rule after all. At least his father cared about him enough to decide that. Again the parent stayed his son with a gentle hand. "Which you didn't break, I did yell."

The little body went slack, the head went down he nodded no. "Because you might hear something and not understand it and then feel bad. Like you do now." Dean squeezed his Dad's hand so hard John thought he might cut off the blood flow. Then he questioned him didn't even try to hide the dread that the answer might be no, "then you do love us and we are worth it?" John squeezed his son's hand tight, "I will always love you Dean. You will always be worth it, both you and Sammy."

His son sighed so deep the man understood the weight the boy had been carrying. "Now what I said in full context to Jim was. Sometimes I don't even think they are worth it anymore. Sammy and especially Dean need a home, not just places to live. But what if I stop and they win? I could loose both my beautiful boys and then where would I be?"

The heartbroken father stopped and moved Dean's face so that they were eye to eye. "They are worth it anymore was referring to demons and such. Not you and your brother, never you and your brother. Dean you two mean the world to me. What I do, I do to protect. Maybe it doesn't always make sense and maybe it isn't always the best thing to do. But I do it because I love you. You boys are my life." The Dad watched his little one process the information.

When he was certain everything sunk in he went on. "Dean I want you to make me a promise." Without blinking his son replied, "Yes Dad." John smiled at his son his suffering but unshrinking mini warrior, "Promise me that you will never be afraid to come and talk to me. If you see or hear something that doesn't make sense you come talk to me. Don't hold it in. Jim and I had that conversation over a week ago. Have you been wrestling with that this entire time?" The father could see the son didn't want to lie to him but really wasn't keen on answering.

"Dean Christopher?" He hoped the use of both names would give him a push with out scaring him, there had been enough of that. "Yes." John mulled this over. "That is why you went into overdrive with the cleaning, cooking and washing?"

His son's face contorted but he didn't cower. "Yes. I figured if you didn't have to do anything but just hunt and tuck us in. Then we would have you and you wouldn't have to worry if we were worth it. Cause tucking his in, how hard is that?" The father rested his chin back on Dean's head. "Oh Imp. Promise me you will come talk to me." Dean reached for his Dad's free hand. "I promise."

June 3, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

The recovering hunter looked up from his box to his Angel. She had tears running down her cheeks. It wasn't until he felt her soft fingers brush his away that he realized so did he. "My Dad made me the same promise to always talk to me and not hold it in. As the years went on the talking became less him reassuring and more me asking why. But he never broke that promise until he did this."

The statement was very telling to all the strong young man had done for his family. He carried the weight of their world on his shoulders. His father had told him things that no one should have to know, not even John. And yet Mary could tell Dean wasn't angry just resigned. The Winchesters weren't just strong men they were indomitable soldiers. Indomitable soldiers with big huge hearts. Big huge hearts they kept hidden and locked away.

"Maybe it was as you said before. Maybe he forgot and did the process in reverse." He raised an eye at her words, "Oh Kansas. He sucks, what else can I say?" The man on the bed laughed, "Oh sweetheart you so not going to get any argument from me." She laughed at the intentional reiteration of her words.

The twenty six year old reached in to the box to see if there were anything in there that would inspire a happy memory. At the bottom of the cottonwood chest was a menu written in crayon. The top said Amos and Craven's Sloop Shoppe. Underneath was the proclamation 'special meatball recipe guaranteed to make your mouth water,' below the bold statement there was a list of meals to choose from. Complete with little boxes next to each selection. The bottom of the menu said please return by 5:00pm tonite.

His Angel laughed, "Amos and Craven Sloop Shoppe." Dean chuckled, "Give me a break we were still just five and nine. It was only a few days after the balloon… I wanted to do something special for my Dad's Birthday. After our big talk I thought about it. It occurred to me that my Dad really thought we might not love him. He needed to know we did. At five and nine this is what we came up with."

The brown eyed girl touched her charges hand. "You are a really good man Dean Christopher I am honored to know you." He smiled, "Thank you Mary…" the man let the sentence hang. She smiled "Mary Grainne." Dean raised a questioning eye. "It is Gaelic for Grace." Reaching over to touch her face the wounded warrior said, "Thank you Mary Grainne, you are a really good woman, I am honored to know you."

August 28, 1989Blue Earth, Minnesota

John Winchester ran a shaking hand over his beard, which was reaching ten days growth. For some reason he felt more comfortable with one than without. Probably because he felt it hide him. Old habits die hard. The sweating man sat up in bed.

The nightmare had been horrible. Dean was sitting on the boulder crying alone. No matter how hard John tried to reach him he kept encountering this invisible wall. His little man would turn and look at him. "Dad, why don't you love me?" When John's heart rate came back to normal he realized it was he who worried that Dean didn't love him.

With a heavy heart he swung his legs off the bed. The man was headed to the bathroom when he noticed something on the floor. Years of training and caution kicked in. Instantly he went into hunter mode. He slowly crouched down to grab the item, eyes on the door just in case. When his calloused fingers came in contact with the object he realized it was piece of paper. Not just any piece of paper, a piece of soft construction paper.

John knelt down on his knees as his dark eyes scanned the pumpkin orange paper. Amos and Craven's Sloop Shoppe was written in Dean's handwriting. Under that was a menu selection complete with boxes. In Sammy's handwriting it said please return by 5:00pm tonite. John felt his heart start to palpitate. "What are you boy's up to?" The words were directed at the door. Not surprisingly he didn't receive a response. Shaking his head he stood up and with the 'Sloop Shoppe' menu in his hand exited the room.

About fifteen minutes later a newly showered and changed John Winchester joined his pal Jim Murphy in the kitchen for a cup of joe. When the former Marine reached the doorframe his friend held up a mug. John nodded. The brown sweater wearing man pulled one out of the cupboard and filled it. Turning around he set the cups down on the table.

Each man pulled a yellow chair out and sat down. They both took long sips of their beverages. Deep sighs followed the action. "Something to be said for a good cup of coffee in the morning," Jim mused. John laughed, "Something indeed."

After the wake me up sip the soon to be birthday Dad looked at his friend and pulled something from his pocket. When he placed the orange paper on the yellow table Jim smiled. The father tapped the menu. "Did you know about this?" The coffee pourer looked at his friend, really studied his face. The constant battle with grief and other worldly things had aged him. John looked much older than his about to be thirty three years.

"Yes. The boys asked me if I would take them to the store tonight." As an after thought he added, "and keep you out of the kitchen tomorrow." John had a good hearty laugh at the request and said "because I spend so much time in here regularly?" The house owner grinned. "Can't keep you out of the place." He took another swig of the dark roast and went on.

"The boys wanted to do something special for your birthday. I think Samuel's exact words were 'Dad needs to know his is really special. So we have to do something special for his special day.'" They older men laughed at a classic Sam explanation. Sensing his friend wasn't ready to acknowledge the sentiment, at least not yet the former Chaplin continued.

"You know Jonathon I talked with Dean for a long time last night." The father raised his eyes to his buddies face. Not sure whether he could speak without his voice breaking John inclined his head urging Jim to continue. "He told me you needed to know you were loved." The dark hair man hung his head without bringing it up he asked, "What else did he say?"

The pastor took a mind full sip of his coffee. "I told him I kept an eye on you two just make sure all was well. When I saw you grab him and swat his backside I had a foot out the door." The dad took a drink of his dark roasted beverage relishing the fact it was still hot enough to burn a path down his throat.

"He said it's okay Jim, I told him too. Besides he didn't hit me all the hard. Not like before then I couldn't sit without it hurting." John ran a hand over his face. 'Maybe he…' the thought trailed off as the Padre continued. "Dean said he didn't know what to do and that scared him. Cause he could always figure out what to do. But he thought you didn't think they were worth it anymore. Apparently he heard our heated discussion."

The still thirty two year old spoke up. "Angels above Jim, how could he think I didn't think they were worth it? I love them more than life itself." The Pastor sighed he loved his friend, but the man could be as thick headed as a barn door. "Because Jonathon they are little boys, even Dean who is wise beyond his years and you are a gruff man. If I had been Dean and heard that, can't say that I would have felt differently."

The father countered, "It's not like him to sit on something." The man of the Lord looked up to the heavens for the strength to say the right words. "He thought you didn't love him anymore. Those words especially Dean kept playing over and over in his head. He didn't know what he did wrong. Normally he can fix a situation and make everyone happy. In this case it was him who was hurt. You're his Dad and his hero. His little heart was breaking."

"Oh Jim it was hard watching his face drain of color when we walked over to the water. It was all I could do not to throw up." The man took another swig of his coffee hoping it would quell the ache in his stomach. "He thought I was going to spank him and when I didn't he froze. The look in his eyes Jim, I wanted to collapse right then and there. He kept calling me sir, when I told him to call me Dad he actually bit his lip to keep from crying." The cleric reached over and put a hand on his best friends.

"Jonathon, I know how much your heart hurt." The man with the still aching heart ran both hands through his hair. He brought them to rest on his face a second before continuing. "I didn't know what to do. I asked him if he wanted me to spank him. I was at a loss when he said yes. It was the desperate longing in his voice. How could I have reduced that brave little man to almost begging me to beat him?"

Jim nodded in understanding, "that's why you swatted him?" John nodded. "It wasn't hard, just enough to hopefully knock sense into him or at least compel him to talk. Then he just started crying, full on big tears, kept saying no sir, hit me harder." The father stopped. He ran another hand over his face.

"I just held him. He was sobbing. Never in his whole has he cried like that. Not even when I did tan his hide, not when Mary died, never. He cried when I took him to visit the stone. He didn't understand why Mary wasn't there. But still he was consolable. This it was, oh hell, I thought I had lost him." Jim took a deep breath, "You didn't lose him. He lost him and wanted you to find him."

John wasn't sure he grasped what his friend was trying to tell him, but wanted, no needed to know if he had really mended the situation with his son. If he talked it out then maybe everyone would be able to feel better. There wasn't very much Jim didn't know about him and John knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he could trust the man. "Did he tell you the rest?"

"You mean about telling him if you smacked him it was because you cared and when you didn't he thought you didn't. And that he assumed you didn't love him anymore and he wasn't worth the effort. And he didn't know how he was going to explain it to Samuel how he was responsible for losing your love for them both."

John looked up at that, "I didn't know the last part." The bible man nodded. "Why didn't he tell me that part?" Jim took a page out of his friend's book and ran a calming hand over his face. "I would guess at that point he knew you loved him. That what happened hurt you like it did him and he didn't want to make you feel worse than you already did." He stopped and let the words sink in.

The homeowner sighed and continued, it would further lacerate the father's heart but he needed to hear it. "The poor boy lowered his voice when he told me he made you cry. Actually asked me if that made him a bad son?" The hunter closed his eyes at that. 'Bad son? No father could ask for a better one.'

"How do we heal? All of us?" John prayed his friend would provide him the unnamed something he was in search for. The something that would help the three wayward Winchesters rebuild their fractured lives. Jim laughed, "I would say returning the menu by five and staying out of the kitchen tomorrow would help." John laughed with his friend, "that all?" The retired Chaplin looked at his friend at in all seriousness said, "It's a start."

August 29, 1989Blue Earth, Minnesota

The birthday man woke up about 4:30am. Jim warned him the previous night that the boys had an entire special day planned for their special Dad. The special Dad knew the special day would start early. He could actually hear the boys talking in the kitchen.

"Dean does this look okay?" His youngest asked in a staid little voice. "Looks cool Sammy." Dean replied in a matching somber manner. John couldn't help but smile when Sam then said, "Cool." He sounded just like his brother. Angels help them if he had two sons that said 'cool.'

5:00am on the nose he heard a knock on his door. The apprehensive father played along. "Yes?" He smiled as he heard the bare feet of his children shuffle outside his door. Something about listening to his mini me's seemed so right. Dean's strong voice carrier through the barrier, "Dad, are you awake? Can we come in?" The birthday man took a deep breath and answered, "Yes son I am awake, come in." John was not prepared for what was behind the door. His boys, his wonderful, beautiful boys opened the wooden structure and came in.

The older one of the two had a serving tray and a bag. The younger had balloons, yellow of course and a box, wrapped. It was after all the most important part. Before the father could formulate words into sentences a rockin version of Happy Birthday was sung. Complete with Sammy playing the air guitar. John chuckled there was no doubt in his mind that the little one picked that up from the big though still little one.

"Thank you boys." The still in bed man said. Dean looked at him, dead in his eyes. "Happy Birthday Dad." John looked at his son, "thank you." He understood and in that moment he really did. They were in this together.

"Okay Dad, you can't move yet." Sammy had his nose scrunched as he expertly tied the balloons to the footboard of the bed. When the five year old had completed his task he looked back at his father. "Now you can move." The newly thirty three year old nodded at his youngest. "Thank you Sammy."

Dean placed the food tray on his fathers lap. "Breakfast in bed is served." John was taken back by the meal. He looked at his domestic, the soul of the Winchester family with heavy emotion swirling in his dark eyes. The nine year olds smile stumbled at the raw feelings raging forth from his fathers face. What if he made a bad decision in doing this for his Dad? The dirty blond took a deep breath and told his father where he came up with the idea. "I remember mom would say, "Breakfast in bed should be fit for a king."

The widowed husband felt the lump in his throat. He missed his wife. They always had desert before breakfast. Sammy had been a result of desert before breakfast. John closed his dark soulful eyes hoping to clear the memory of his wife crying out in his arms. His son needed this he could see the worry in his hazel eyes. He swallowed the cement block the had suddenly taken up residence in his throat he replied, "that she did."

Sensing all was okay with his father the nine year old said, "Eat up Dad, daylights coming." John cocked an eyebrow at his eldest use of a phrase that he himself used all the time, 'eat up boys, daylights coming.' Dean laughed knowing his Dad wasn't mad. "We are on a schedule you know." The father chuckled at the use of another one of his stock idioms.

"What about you boys? Are you going to eat?" Sam's brown green eyes looked at him and in a 'what are thinking' voice said, "Dad servants don't eat with the king." The king eyed his two sons, "today they do. Grab your grub and come sit with me."

A few minutes later all three Winchester men were sitting on the bed enjoying their early morning meal. John engaged his son's in conversation hoping to do a little recon and if he was honest with himself enjoy a normal family moment. He looked down at their feet all three Winchester boys shuffled them back and forth the same way. He grinned and asked "How did you make the toast in a crown?" Dean looked at him with a slightly duh expression, "cookie cutter."

The father smiled, "and the honey on the oatmeal?" His son laughed, "Dad weren't you the man who told me never reveal the tricks of your trade to an outsider?" John faltered a little at the question. "You think I am an outsider?" His pragmatic nine year old looked at him, "exactly how much time do you spend in the kitchen?" The father chuckled, no he was not known for his culinary skills "point made."

"So Sammy, what's in the box?" John questioned his little one who quietly chewing on a piece of toast. "All is good time Dad." The former Marine was starting to wish he didn't have coin phrases that he used. Hearing them said back to him was starting to give him a glimpse into the world his children lived in.

"Right, all in good time. Did you help with breakfast?" Unruly hair bounced here and there when his moppet shook his head yes. "Yes Dad. Cut the fruit and brewed the coffee." The father could not help but smile at the way his five year old said brewed the coffee. Here was an oil swill drinker in the making.

When all the food had been consumed, Dean the domestic cleared the repast away. He returned from the kitchen and silently stood in the doorway. The middleman in the trifecta watched his Dad and brother in an embrace.

The dirty blond heard his cool brother extraordinaire say to his Dad. "If you get to worry about us, we get to worry about you." His Dad ruffled the toe head's hair. "Okay Sammy, okay." The chef walked into the room quietly. "What do you say Sammy that we give Dad his presents?"

John looked at his boys, one to the other and back. Their grins were making him nervous. He wasn't used to displays of affection especially open ones like this. He gave them enough allowance that they could afford presents plural? Hum, he was going to have to look into this.

His little introspector looked at him brown green eyes kind and understanding. Too understanding at five. Sammy's fingers pulled on his Dad's white undershirt. John leaned down. His son's hand cupped his ear. "Sokay Dad, we think you are cool too." The father felt tears sting his eyes at the simple statement. The father lifted his arm and pulled his little one into a hug. "Thanks Sammy."

"What one do I open first?" The Centropolis Native asked the room. "The bag." Was the in unison answer. With what he hoped was a steady hand he opened the bag. When the contents came into view he looked up at his boys.

The midget had moved in front of his brother. The Dad figured his son's wanted to see his reaction. Dean was sitting behind Sam, who was leaning into his brother's chest. John pulled the shirt out it was a gray Henley with red writing, 'World's Greatest Dad.' His eyes welled.

Sam put a hand on his Dad's shaking one, "Its okay to cry Dad." A tear rolled down his check, "he said it to Sam all the time, "its okay to cry." All three Winchester's laughed at the five year olds sincere statement, not that it was funny just that they wanted to relieve the tension.

Dean nodded at the box. John took his time opening the present. 'World's Greatest Dad,' didn't he wish. 'This is for your boys, smile.' What he should have realized then, was it was for him too. The box finally open he looked at the item nestled into padding. A helmet? A Marine Corps issue combat helmet.

Images flashed through his head. Augustus Mathews covered in his blood. The screams, oh fuck. Would he never get that night out of his head? John closed his eyes at the memories of the yells, the body parts strewn about, the blood, 'oh hell the blood.'

When he opened them, two little faces were looking at him in tormented agony clear as day. "It's okay boys Dad was just thinking about his time with force recon." John prayed his voice was level he did not want his son's alarmed any more than they already looked.

It was Sam who spoke up, "we didn't mean to make you feel bads." The father swallowed, "you didn't make me feel bads munchkins. Goods actually." They all heaved sighs of relief. "Okay boys I give, why a helmet?"

His sons laughed. 'Uh oh,' that look in Dean's hazel eye's gave him pause. Again Sam was the one to answer. "Read the note Dad." 'The note? There was a note? Of course there was.' John reached a scared hand into the brown carton, under the helmet was, a note. He opened the folded piece of paper. The First Annual Winchester Boot Camp Day written in Jim's fancy scroll stared at him.

The former Marine flashed back to San Diego, California he was standing on the famed yellow footprints looking at the yellow buildings. He remembered the other boys being frightened at the yelling, he was accustomed to his father. With the drill instructors he new he was getting paid to listen.

When they had been required to strip down and change out of their civilian clothes a drill sergeant had scene his scars. After that he wasn't yelled at, not in the same way at least. The young recruit figured the guy's old man must have beat him too. "Dad?" Two little voices pulled him out of his reverie.

"Sorry boys. First Annual Winchester Boot Camp Day?" Dean's eyes were worried. John could see it. He knew something was wrong with his Dad. So did Sam, he placed a hand on his fathers like his brother would do with his. "It's okay boys really. You didn't make me feel bads. I was just thinking about his first day at boot camp for the Marine Corps." His son's visibly relaxed.

"So what will the Winchester boot camp consist off?" "All in good time." Was the tandem reply complete with twinkling eyes. Then the older of his two children said, "After you have shaved and showered. Could change into your shirt and helmet? Then meet us on the back porch please." The heavyhearted father nodded, "okay boys."

The parent watched as his two sons walked out of the room. They were leaned into each other talking quietly. As he was making the bed he heard a sound at the door. He turned around, his friend Jim was leaning into the door jam. "Good Morning Jonathon. Happy Birthday." John eyed the pastor's lazy attitude with gritted teeth. "Morning James." Jim raised his eye at the use of his full name.

"Do you know what the boys have in store for me?" The former Chaplin laughed, "yes I do. The only thing I will tell you, is they didn't do it alone, they talked to me and we set it up." The birthday man didn't miss the emphasis on the word 'we.' "Dean knew if they did it alone it would be breaking one of the big rules." The father swallowed, 'big rules oh hell.'

Would his son never trust that he wasn't going to get beat every time John yelled? Hadn't he done better than that, he almost never spanked the boy. "Okay, you helped them. Got it." Jim Murphy looked at his best friend, "they tried so hard Jonathon, just go with it." John closed his eyes at the pleading in the other man's voice. He understood they all needed that unnamed something.

"Off to the head." The 'World's Greatest Dad' said as he walked out of the door and down the hall. Once John was in the safety of the water closet he rested his hands on the door. He didn't mean to but he heard his little ones ask Jim, "You didn't tell him anything did you?" The older man replied, "Heaven's no boys, your Dad deserves a good surprise." All three men in the hall laughed. 'Oh Mary, give me the strength.'

A short time later former Gunnery Sergeant Winchester stepped out onto the back veranda. He was dressed in his green camouflage pants still with the Winchester nametape across his bum. The long since left the Corps newly thirty three year old couldn't believe they still fit. Tucked into the pants was his 'Worlds Greatest Dad' shirt.

Under his arm was the helmet. A helmet of the likes he hoped never to see again. But for his son's he would make the sacrifice. Jim was sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs on the porch, nursing a mug of coffee. He raised the cup to John then nodded for him to look down the steps.

The Dad let out a whistle. The Murphy land had been transformed into an obstacle course, a big one. 'They had done all this last night?' The 'World Greatest Dad' made his way down the stairs. He looked back up at Jim who took a swig of his beverage. "Good luck Gunny." John laughed.

'Gunny,' it had been a long time since he was Gunny Winchester. 'Oh hell.' The man of the cloth said, "not hell, defiantly the road to heaven." The father snapped his head back to his friend. "It is true Jonathon you thought it so loud I heard it." Still chuckling the man gazed at his son's who were at what looked to be the starting point.

John heard his friend put his mug down and amble down the steps. As they headed over to the youngsters Jim chuckled at his friends barley contained nerves. The Pastor knew his friend didn't think he was worth any of this. Poor man he was worth all this and more.

"Why are you following me?" The birthday man asked with the slight hint of hostility in his voice. "Because Samuel and Dean made me promise that I would be with them. They wanted you understand they didn't touch your rifle without adult supervision." The former rifleman stopped and looked at the Padre.

"I believe your eldest told me it was one of the big rules. Really, really, really big leather wielding rules Jim." Before he could check himself John flinched. He stopped and looked at Jim. He tried to talk but the words wouldn't come out. "The three of you will make it through this. Just love them. That's all they need. That's all you need." The father nodded his heart felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds.

The former military men arrived at the staging area. John spied his little Sammy with one of his USMC ball caps on. The father in him couldn't help but smile at the way it kept sliding down his son's unruly hair. The Marine in him stood at attention and yelled. "Gunnery Sergeant Jonathon Dean Winchester reporting as ordered sirs."

His son's smiled but to their credit didn't giggle. Instead his oldest bellowed back, "at easy Gunny Winchester." Jim cracked a grin at his friends face. He could tell John was fighting the urge to howl with laughter, really fighting. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if he did. The now thirty three year old needed more humor in his life.

Sam walked up to his Dad. "Gunny Winchester, here are your orders." The father looked down at his no nonsense midget commanding officer. "Yes sir." The serious expression slipped a little, he could tell his five year old wanted to smile. That only served to make John want to laugh even more.

He bit his lip at the urge and took the 'orders.' Which when he looked at them were in fact a real set of United States Marine Corps orders. John raised an eye to Jim who innocently opened his hands in a 'what' gesture. As the Gunny scanned the document he saw that it was the Pastor who filled it out.

When he finished digesting the information he handed the document back to his mini Marine. "Do you understand your mission devil dog?" Sam questioned him again with an authoritative edge to his voice, one no doubt learned from John himself. "Yes sir."

The unnaturally quite dirty blond finally spoke up, "Semper Fi, Marine." John turned to his other mini Marine. Who apparently for this day was the executive officer. The older one let the younger one take the lead. John smiled internally, no one could ask for better family than Dean. "Semper Fi, Sir." His eldest dead panned a look that would have impressed a real drill instructor.

For the next several hours the newly thirty three year old humped like a boot. His boys and former best friend set up a course that was both reflective of the Corps and their current 'ghost hunting' lifestyle. There were logs to jump over and apparitions to shoot. It was at the tire part John decided Jim was no longer his friend. His legs were burning, his back aching, and his heart ready to burst. Although he had to admit the latter was more likely due to the fact he was so damn proud of his son's.

At the end of a very long, arduous, exhausting day John finished all the tasks detailed on his orders. He stood at attention in front of his wonderful boy's. "Gunnery Sergeant Jonathon Dean Winchester reporting as ordered sirs. Mission Complete." His voice relayed the fact he was tired as all hell. "Well done Gunny. You finished the course well under the projected time. Nice shooting there by the way." His nine year old complimented him.

John fought to keep the smile off his face. "Thank you sirs." "Gunny hit the hose and then report to the kitchen for chow." His five year old informed him. "Yes sirs, thank you sirs." Dean smiled big when he said, "Dismissed." So did the Gunny when he broke off in a run towards a much needed shower. He let the hot water work into his neck.

His sons did at this for him. They wanted him to know how much they learned. Everything on the hellish course was thing's he had told them about or had them do. At the time he questioned himself, he had no idea if was doing a good thing or not. He was a single Dad. John did the best with what he had. They wanted him to know they knew and he was their hero. The dark haired father was truly humbled at the sentiment.

A changed and clean TAD Gunny Winchester reported to the kitchen for chow. When he did his throat constricted. There was a big crayon made sign hanging from the not moving at the moment fan. 'Happy Birthday to the World's Greatest Dad.'

John swallowed the lump when his boys launched themselves full force at him. "Happy Birthday Dad, we love you." The father hugged his son's tight. "I love you boys, I love you too." His kissed the tops of their heads.

Dean was the first to pull out of the embrace. "Okay Dad, have a seat at the place of honor." The thirty three year old looked at the table, the chair in front of the wall had a red pillow on the seat one of his military issue wool blankets lined the back. Smiling at his eldest he replied. "Okay son." The birthday Dad sat down in the place of honor. Sam sat on his lap and talked with him while the domestic fixed the plates.

"You looked so cool out there Dad, five star cool. When you scaled the tree and got all three ghosties in under thirty seconds, wow." John ruffled his son' s hair smiling at the pure happiness in his youngest one's face. "Thank you Sammy, I have to say I felt a little out of practice." His former best friend laughed at that. John raised his eyes over his little ones head and glared imposingly at his used to be pal. Jim just smiled innocently at the father.

His buddy needed this, so did the boys. This one day would do more to heal all their hearts than any amount of lakeside chats. "Dad will you show us how to hang upside down from a tree branch by our legs?" The five year old asked. "Sure Sammy, but will start with a shorter tree." The father smiled at his son. "Cool." 'Cool indeed.'

"Dinner is served." The nine year old cook announced. John's stomach grumbled, eliciting laughs from everyone at the table. "Good thing your hungry Dad, cause Dean cooked a bunch." Sam stated as he climbed off his Dad's lap and up on the chair across from his father.

The waiter smiled as he set the plate down in front of his Dad. Spaghetti and meatballs with corn and green beans never looked so good. John's mouth watered at the site. Jim let Dean used the good corning ware which his son was ever so careful with. The young man placed every ones plate in front of them. Then he turned around grabbed a basket, "fresh bread." He stated to the table in general.

The dirty blonds lips turned up in a small grin as he spun on his heel. Bare feet shuffled towards the fridge where he fidgeted for a while. John cocked an eyebrow at Jim who remained mute save for the knowing smile on his face. When Dean turned back towards the table the father saw an old fashion metal pail with a towel wrapped around it.

"Sir, would you care for a beverage with your dinner?" John grinned at his little maitre d'. Normally sir would have put him in a different frame of mind. With this situation it was Dean using the time honored tradition of levity. 'Who was he to stand in the way?' "Why thank sir, I would love a beverage with dinner." Everyone smiled when Sam giggled. The meal was composed of John's favorite foods and beverages.

The hazel eyed nine year old brought the bucket over to the birthday man. He pulled out an iced cold cream soda bottle, held it against the towel draped over his arm. "Does this meet with your approval?" Again a giggle from Sam, Dean grinned at the giggle but didn't laugh him self. John smiled, he took his time inspecting the bottle, the label, everything. "Yes thank sir." The waiter placed the bucket on the floor, pulled a bottle opener from his pocket and popped the top off. Then he placed it in front of his Dad.

Once his father was taken care of the older brother poured his younger one a glass of milk, then the Pastor a cup of coffee. After that he headed over to the stove. "Son?" The father's deep voice questioned. "Yes Dad." Sam answered. John looked over to his little moppet. The kid's eyes were sparkling. "Dean?" His nine year old turned around. "Yes Dad." The dark haired man pointed to the table. "Aren't you going to join us?" Dean looked at him, "of course Dad, just turning the flames down."

Once everyone was seated, the Winchesters all looked at Jim. "I take it that I am to say grace tonight?" Three heads nodded at his open question. Jim put his hands over the table, three Winchester heads bowed. Benedic, Domine, nos et haec tua dona quae de tua largitate sumus sumpturi per Christum Dominum Nostrum. Amen. Three Winchester Amens, followed. Although Dean's was barley audible. Jim cocked an eyebrow.

Dean attempted to look chagrined. John let the interchange slide. He understood his oldest displeasure with Jim's God. He had told him he had to respect Jim's rules but he did not have let go of his anger until he was ready. The father could not ask of son what he himself could not do.

Dean stood up and queitly helped his brother cut the basgetti as the floppy haired one called it into small pieces. "Thanks Craven." Sam's eyes shone bright with love for his brother. The older one unconciouslly ruffled his siblings hair, "for you Amos anything."

It might have been said in a joking matter, but everone at the table knew the statement to be as true and serious as they come. Dean would do anything for Sam. No one at the table knew then that in the coming years, the older one would sacrafic all for his brother. Had they, John would have stopped hunting then and there.

With the five year old's plate ready eveyone dug in. "My compliments to the chef." John said after he had inhaled the first three bits. "Thank you Dad." Dean said after swallowing a meat ball. "Yummy." Sam said around a piece of noddle. His older brother gave him a look.

The five year old swallowed. "Yummy Dean." The dirty blond smiled at his brother. "Thanks Sammy, but you helped." The pastor spoke up. "That right, you did a good job rolling the meatballs in circles." The father looked from his nine year old to his five year old. The pride in Dean's eye chocked him up.

"You helped Sammy?" John questioned his youngest. "Yes Dad, Dean put the stuff in bowl, showed me how to mixes it and then squeeze it like this," the little ones brown green eyes were twinkling as he showed his Dad with a napkin what he did. "It was fun." The now thirty three year old man looked at his former best friend. "And you?" Brushing a crumb off the table in front of him the former Chaplin replied, "I helped with the bread and the cake."

"A cake? You boys made a cake?" John looked at everyone they had suddenly found chewing very interesting. Finally it was Sam who answered. "Dad what would a birthday be without a cake?" 'What indeed?' The man thought. The father noticed that his eldest has been quiet through out the whole exchange. "Dean?" Hazel eyes, her eyes looked at him. "Yes?" 'What was wrong with the boy?' "Is everything okay? You're not normally so," the father held a hand out, "without something to say."

"Just thinking Dad." His boys eyes were way too serious. "About what?" John hoped the answer was something he could help with. "That I hope you enjoyed your birthday." The Dad turned his head. "Boy's, I can't think of a better birthday." Two sets of eyes looked at him. "Even though I know we will all sleep soundly tonight, it was the best birthday I have ever had." His son's smiled. Dean relaxed and sighed. 'Oh my poor boy.'

"So what kind of cake did you make?" The father queiryed the table in between bites of food. The boys looked from Jim to their Dad and then each other. "A birthday cake." Was his eldest hesitant answer. John eyed Jim as if to 'what is wrong?' The Cleric gave his friend a knowing look. 'Do not get upset. Let it go.' "Got it, a birthday cake." It was Sam who saved everyone from feeling low. "Dad, you told us that surprises on your birthday were a good thing. So let us surprises you." The table laughed.

Dinner had been cleared, the dishes had been washed. Left overs had been stored. Jim and Sam corralled the birthday man into the living room. John eyed the Pastor over his son's head. The house owner just smiled and pointed to an overstuffed chair. The former Gunny took the hint and sat. "Dad, I am glad you had a special day." The father picked his little one up and sat him on his knee. "Me to munchkin, me too."

About five minutes and a thousand questions from his five year old later the Dad turned to see his eldest walk in with a tray. On the wooden plater was a huge cake with candles. "Thiry three," the occupant on his knee answered the silent question. John watched Dean give Sam a signal. The midget popped off his resting place and walked over to his brother.

The waiter placed the cake on the table infront of the Dad. Then the two brothers broke into song. '**It's Johnny's Birthday**,' by **George Harrison**. The older men laughed at the younger one's playing the air drums and guitar. After the cronning was complete 'Johnny' blew out all his candles, at one time. A fact that impressed his littlest one too no end. "Totally cool Dad, to ta lly co ol." Jim laughed saying it had to do with all the hot air running between John's ears. His eldest continued to remain uncharacteristcally quiet.

After the cake reciepiant studied the cake he could see why. It was one of Mary's reciepies, one of her blue card special ones. Oh Dean had made lots of things from her cards but never one of her blue card ones. John figured the kid was worried his Dad might miss his mom and be upset. Then it would be his fault. The father looked at the tyke kindly. "Thank you Dean." The boy looked at Jim, "he helped." Grinding his teeth the man said, "thank you Jim." The Padre was enoying his friends discomfort. "Happy Birthday Jonathon."

The cake was absolutly delecious. The birthday father knew that should his domestic ever want to open a restraunt it would be sold out every night if the confection was on the menu. The nine year old cleared away the plates and the remandier of the cake. "I can help Dean." Sam said in a small voice. "Okay." The older brother handed the younger the plates and the silverware. As they entered the kitchen you could hear Sam ask his bestest brother. "Do you really think he liked his special day?" The door closed on Dean's unheard reply.

"Jim." The former recon man started. "Jonathon, those boys worked so hard, you have no idea." The tired man ran a hand through his dark hair. "I am beginning too. That cake was one of Mary's special blue card recipes." The pastor looked at his friend. "I know, Dean asked me what I thought. He wanted you to know you were special and to include Mary in some way." John closed his eyes, he could still feel her hands on his face. Her lips as she softly kissed his.

"He debated with me about whether this would be breaking a rule or not." The pastor took a breath and with Dean mannerisms repeated what the boy had said. "Techniqley Jim he has given me access to all the cards. I keep the regular ones in my bad. But the blue card one's are still in his black bag and that his private bag. We are not supposed to go into his stuff. What do you think?"

The father looked at the homeowner. "He is in overdrive about the rules." The rules was said with air quotes. "The boy is still paranoid that you might decide he is not worth loving." John ran a hand over his face. "I have told him I loved him and that he will always be worth it. How else do I make him understand?" The birthday man implored the sage man too answer. "Time will come to prove to him that you do. The only thing you can do now is just keep showing him in the little things."

Before the older men could continue their conversation the younger ones rentered the room. Another serving tray with coffee mugs and a carafe was in Dean's hands. A very large bag and much smaller one in Sam's. Jim gave his friend a very knowing look. "Smile and like it, they worked hard. This is the big one."

"Attention to orders Gunery Sergeant Winchester." Jim smiled as the former Gunny popped out of the chair and stood at attention. "Sirs, yes sirs." Out of one eye John watched his youngest ask Jim something. The pastor laughed and nodded. Sam walked over to his Dad's end of the coffe table and Dean give him a hand up as he gently climbed on to it.

"Gunny Winchester, for distinguished and heroic service involving conflict with opposing foreign forces, you are being awarded with the bronze star." The former Marine watched his oldest look at Jim. The man nodded. John was looking straight ahead when his chef pulled the medal out of the bag and pinned it to his chest. The former Marine swallowed, this hand made medal meant more to him than the real bronze star sitting in his footlocker.

"Sirs, thank you sirs." He prayed his voice was even. "Gunny Winchester, for exceptional and distinguished performance of duty contributing to the Winchester/Murphy security and defense at the highest levels, you are being awarded with the Defense Distinguished Service Medal. Again the former Gunny looked straight ahead as Dean pinned another medal on his chest.

"Sirs, thank you sirs." John knew his voice was shaky. He took a moment to look at Jim. The Minnesota man smiled at him. "Gunny Winchester, for extraordinary heroism while engaged in ghost busting operations involving conflicts with evil forces. In the presence of great danger and at great personal risk, your individual performance was considered highly conspicuous. You are being awarded the Navy Cross. The father swallowed as Dean pinned the award on his chest. "Sirs, thank you sirs." Both his son's looked at him.

"Thank you for your services to Jim's God, the whole country, and the Corps." Sam smiled at him. "And to the Winchester and Murphy families. Your sacrifices have been great and while there is noways that this family can ever repay the debt. We hope that these medals convey our gratitude." The moppets brown haired head turned to Jim. The Pastor nodded he had gotten the speech mostly right, noways might not be a word, but hey. "At ease Gunny." His dirty blond said. Again he nine year old was letting the younger one take the lead. Hum.

Dean helped the five year old climb down of the table. The little one then reached down with his shirt and wiped the area where he had been standing. John looked at his boys, his wonderful boys. He opened his arms his sons fell into them. He kissed the tops of their heads, tears stinging his eyes. "Thank you boys, the medals mean the world to me." Dean held his father extra tight. "You mean the world to us." It was in that moment he understood. It was clear as day to him. For Dean it was that simple. 'You mean the world to us.'

John went to take his seat. Sam looked at him he picked the midget up and sat the little one down on his knee. Much like he had done earlier. Hazel eyes followed the action when they were certain everyone was comfortable they looked at the really big bag. "Dad, you have one more present."

The birthday Dad laughed and not for the first time thought what he asked, "Seriously boys how much do I pay you two monkeys for an allowance that you are able to afford all these presents?" His boys laughed. "You are worth it Dad." The man swallowed at the serious sentiment masquerading in the joking manner.

The worth it Dad looked over to his friend. Okay the man was his friend he had helped his boys do all this. Jim smiled big. Dean handed him the gift his eyes big. 'Don't mess this up Johnny boy.' He said to himself as opened the bag. It was blue and green. That was all he could tell. The man reached an unsteady hand into the present holder. He knew both his sons were watching him intently. 'No pressure boys.' When he pulled out the gift he was speechless.

"What do you think Dad? Didn't Dean do a goods job?" An excited Sam asked his father. John didn't know what to say he looked at Dean. He just put the gift over his knee and pulled the boy into an embrace. "Oh Dean, you did a goods job." The father told his son. Everyone giggled, even John. He figured he had let the mask down for the rest of the day, why not now.

Yawns followed the giggles. Staying in the safety and comfort of his Dad's arm the older of the two brothers spoke up. "Jim the kitchen is spotless. We will be up early to put out back to rights." The landowner smiled at the big yawns.

"Not too early. You know you can't do it without my help. And I am afraid I don't have the Winchester resolve of getting up everyday at 4:00 am. How about we meet after cartoons?" Sam and Dean looked at each other then Jim. "Okay Jim." They reached up and hugged their Dad. "Night Dad, we love you."

Holding his boys tight he rested his chin on Dean's head. "Thank you boys, for what has truly been my best birthday. I love you both so much, now go get some sleep." The exhausted siblings slowly pulled out of their Dads arms.

They both walked over to Jim and whispered, "Thank you Jim, we couldn't have done it with out you." The smiling older man pulled the boys into a hug, which they heartily returned. "Anything for your father. Good night boys." Two really tired voices said, "night Jim, we love you." He smiled as he said, "I love you too."

The older men watched as the younger dragged themselves to bed. The quilt that a new Mrs. Winchester had made for her husband to keep him warm all those many years ago while he was in the jungle sat draped across his legs.

The widow husband ran a hand down the gift. It had been marred in the fire. He didn't want to throw it out, it held too many memories, but John thought it usable. "How in the world did he accomplish this?" The 'World's Greatest Dad' asked. Jim eyed his friend, "never under estimate the power of Dean's resolve." After that John never did.

June 3, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

The twenty six year old finished the story of his father thirty third birthday with telling his Angel the words he overheard Jim say. "Never under estimate the power of Dean's resolve." Pigtails bobbed as she moved her hand to his. "Guess he didn't after that." The still injured man looked down at his ravaged body and in true cocky fashion said, "Am going to have to agree with you sweetheart."

With a small voice 'sweetheart' went on, "Your resolve is impressive. When I got you into my truck you bucked against me. The sedative hadn't fully taken effect and your body was fighting it on principle. I hated like hell I was putting you through the battle. When you finally succumbed my stomach knotted. It felt like I took a strong man and not only kicked him. But spit on him too while he was down."

The caretaker was looking at the wall. She was ashamed. The day had not gotten off to a good start and while Dean had shared the contents of the world's heaviest box she felt as if she had failed him again. Using feminine wiles or what ever it was called against him had been the wrong choice. It was teasing, dangerous and just plain mean. She only did what she thought was best at the time. Maybe she told him about the car ride to torture herself. She wasn't sure.

"Angel, I am grateful you knocked me out. Do you know how much pain my resolve would have been in if I had to feel every fucking bump, knock and movement?" He could tell she was deep in upset thought. What was wrong? "Doesn't mean I can't feel bad." She countered. "No it doesn't you are entitled to your prerogative, although in this case, I think it's a little whacked." A raised eyebrow and "prerogative" is an awfully big word for a man I was told didn't favor the books much," was her rejoinder.

Dean looked her in the eye, completely serious. His Angel shifted she knew he wasn't joking. "I am sorry Dean; I just can't seem to get it right today. Am going to make you some dinner." She was off the bed and almost to the door when he said. "Mary, please stay, there is one more thing in the box I would like to show you." The five foot eight girl slowly turned around. It wasn't the use of her given name that got to her it was the sigh after the statement.

The nursemaid sat back down on the bed. Dean quipped, "I'm not upset, Sammy has long been considered the brain in the family." She smiled, "you are no less intelligent, in fact you are probably more so." He turned his head silently asking where she came up with that reasoning. "Reading books doesn't make you intelligent, it makes you book smart. Reading the world around you, that makes you intelligent." The hunter laughed. "Yeah well then the kid still might have some learning to do."

He handed her the brown envelope that made him tense earlier. His Angel looked at him. "Dean you don't have to share anything with me." He sighed, "I know I don't have too. I want too. The only other person who has viewed the contents of this envelope was Pastor Jim. Discussing them was the one and only time he raised his hand to me."

Mary had meet with Jim Murphy. In fact he was the one who really told her about Dean. The Preacher man was less prone to violence than a Buddhist monk. What were the contents that they made the peaceful man strike his surrogate son?

With what she hopped was a steady hand the auburn haired girl opened the portal to his past. Three smaller envelops slipped out. Once they were freed from the larger his Angel could see what they were. Acceptance letters to Columbia, Duke and Tufts. All three prestigious universities had offered Dean Christopher Winchester a full ride.

In that moment she realized all this man had given up for his family. Not for the first time did she want to rail at John Winchester. 'Why oh why couldn't the man understand what his family meant to Dean?' They were really all he had. 'Nothing is more important than family.' The caretaker thought about what Jim had said about Dean when he returned from taking Sam to California. It was all coming together now. He gave up a chance at his way out so his Sammy could have his. Unconditional love. Wow she wondered what it felt like…

Letting out a whistle she looked at Dean, she knew this was not the time for girly sentiment. "Ain't no flies on you. Guess then you really do know all the letters in the alphabet." He smiled at her relaxation technique, "I can count to one hundred too." She laughed, "all the way too a hundred and two. Be still my beating heart. Nothing like a man who can count to a hundred and two to get my blood flowing." Dean out and out laughed at that. "Thank you Angel."

She smiled and cocked an eyebrow "why did Jim hit you?" The wayward warriors face cringed. "Because I told him I wasn't worth it." His Angel closed her pretty brown eyes at that. He really believed that she could tell, especially now with what John had done. "Jim was hiding a strong right arm under his long black shirts, knocked me clean on my teen aged ass."

The lady on the bed eyed the papers in front of her. "Told me if I didn't think I was worth than I should stay on the ground while he gave me a real beating. The likes I had never scene." She swallowed Jim Murphy would never say something like that and not back it up.

"I didn't know what to do, I had never scene Jim that upset. I froze, couldn't move." Brown eyes looked at him, "he unbuckled his belt." She bit a lip. "Tell me you spoke up." He smiled, "in the short time you have known me have I yet to be without something to say?" His Angel tentatively smiled, "no not really." Dean ran a hand over the papers. "Jim please, if you are going to beat me let me stand up and take it like a man." The lady listening grimaced. He eyed her, "not really what I was hoping you said."

He laughed, "Not really what I was hoping for, a beating from Jim." She sighed. "Anyhow, he pulled me up by the collar of shirt turned me against the wall stripped me of my pants which had to be warm ups and whaled on my ass. Then he practically through me in one of his big chairs, my bum was smarting something fierce." The twenty six year old grimaced and continued.

"'You move a muscle boy and I promise you, I will take you out back and make sure you really can't sit. In fact I will beat your butt till it bleeds.' He was serious and at that age I wasn't really relishing the thought of having my bum paddled like a nine year old, especially if he intended to draw blood." Dean looked at his Angel. "I didn't move a muscle."

He continued, "Jim was gone about ten minutes. When he returned he sat on the coffee table in front of me…" the hunter swallowed. "Dean Christopher Winchester, I never want to hear the worlds I am not worth it come out of your mouth again. Do you understand me?" Dean looked at his Angel. "Yes Jim, I understand." The still black and blue hunter looked away as he talked on. "Poor man he touched my cheek then told me to go get some ice and come back. Damn if my ass wasn't on fire, that's were I wanted to put the ice. Where did he hide that strength?"

Mary folded the letters back into their sheaths. "When I returned Jim told me he understood why I would turn them down. Though he wished I wouldn't. No he wouldn't stop me or tell my Dad or Sam. Those were my decisions. But if the only reason I wasn't going to take one of the offers was I thought I wasn't worth it. He would drag me out back right then and there. In fact he was still inclined too. He could tell I didn't think I was worth it."

He looked at the girl on the bed she was currently putting the now refilled brown envelope back in the world's heaviest box. Dean wanted her to understand. Although he couldn't put a finger on why it was so important that she did.

"Kansas, I know you are opposed to the whole chick flick thing and to be honest with you I can't say I am a great proponent of it myself…" The wounded warrior cocked an eyebrow. "And at the risk of getting to girly for you…" The man held out a hand as if to say, 'go ahead.'

"We all have events in our lives that shape our core. Who we become. Who we become to ourselves, to the inside world, the outside world…" She sighed, "One thing I have learned the hard way is let them shape you for the better. After you have worked through the pain, the anguish." The chick flick girly locked eyes with the guy sitting next to her, "…and the blood, sweat and tears. It can be done."

He turned his head and bit his bottom lip. With a heavy heart Dean wondered what her other events were, the pattern she point it out... He would hold her and cry with her when he found out, a knife to the gut was nothing compared to what he would learn. Until then he listened to his Angels kind words. "You are worth it Dean Christopher Winchester, you are worth every second of every day. Don't ever think that you aren't. You matter, you do make a difference."

Tears ran down his checks, he couldn't stop them and for some reason didn't really want too. "All the sacrifices you have made for your family. I know you think them in vain, but they are not. What you gave up saved the lives of those you hold most dear. One day I promise you the hunting will be done and all the things you gave up will come back to you ten fold." The hunter chocked out a laugh. "Never make promises you don't intend to keep." Mary looked him dead in the eye. "I don't."

The twenty seven year old took a deep breath, "So tell me the rest of it, about Pastor Murphy." Dean ran a hand over his face. "I cried when I told him, I couldn't leave them. Where would they be?" His Angel looked at him unknowingly with the same look Jim had almost a decade earlier. 'Where indeed?' "Jim told me probably dead. He knew I was the glue that held the Winchester family together. He also said he was so sorry. One day I would be able to realize one of my dreams."

Trying to give him a breather, them both a moment Ms. Carney asked, "What were they?" He chuckled, "At four, to find a nice lady like my Mom to marry and be happy like my Dad. At nine, to be a racecar driver. At twelve, to have a home for my family. At fifteen, to become an engineer, I was always good at building things." She grabbed his hand, "one out of four isn't bad." He raised his eyes, "I have heard the talk about the Impala. When you are better, you'll take me for a spin." The driver smiled at the longing in her voice.

"Maybe one day you will even go two out of four." He cocked an eyebrow. "A home for your family. One day it will happen Dean." He smiled, "Okay Angel, you promised." When she squeezed his hand he swallowed at the sight of her fingers over his. 'Yeah sweetheart, maybe one day I will even go three out of four.' "Can I help in the kitchen?" He asked. She closed her eyes at the abrupt change in topic. His soul was bleeding and he was trying to cauterize the wound. "Carry on my wayward, Kansas."

September 5, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

Their magical summer was coming to a close. Dean knew that the time with his Angel was waning, so did she. They talked about it over a dinner of stew and pumpkin bread. One of the many meals they had shared in the last few months. His Angel broached the subject, "Kansas, we have gone on a couple of test runs. You seem to be Back in Black."

The Impala driver loved her use of classic rock references. She made a point of using them as often as she could come up with them. "I know Angel. You have to get back to New York and I have to find out if there really is life out there."

She laughed at the resignation in his voice. "No one is sending you to the gallows. Your Dad wants you to go to New Orleans to take care of something. Besides you know I am only a phone call away." She might have said it in a jovial manner but the recovered hunter knew she meant it. 'A phone call away.' Dean smiled, "Highway to Hell here I come." The brown eyed girl chuckled at the appropriate classic rock reference.

Grinning at her the Suck's To Be You tee shirt wearer went on, "Papa Winchester suggested I be there for October. What do you say we finish out the month here at the Sunflower Cabin?" The two wayward strays had taken to calling the cabin Sunflower Cabin because of the over abundance of the flora scattered through out the sturdy wooden structure. "Then maybe you can head down south with me, see how it is really done." His Angel laughed at his blatant attempt at male blustering.

"Kansas, I don't think your father would approve." Mary started. "Are you have started to care about that when exactly?" Dean questioned knowing she was going to go with him. "I don't know if my employer would approve either." The cocky twenty six year old knew he couldn't argue with that. He gave her a rare open smile. "I understand Angel."

One deep sigh later, "Okay Kansas, we will go Down South Jukin." Chuckling he bantered, "Lynyrd, nice." "Anything for you Kansas, anything for you." His Angel said with an equally unguarded expression. They both laughed neither knew how many times they had said those words 'anything for you.' With each time they were uttered, they became more and more true. Both knew there wasn't a thing the other could ask where they wouldn't do it.

September 30, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

Over the next few weeks they divided their time between researching the New Orleans job and enjoying the lull before the impending storm. Dean also brought up keeping in touch post split. They had just finished their oatmeal the Friday morning before their Sunday morning leave date. "Angel, I know we have touched on this and at the risk of going totally chick flick here." She looked him, mirroring his serious expression.

"Yes Kansas." He took a deep breath. "What about keeping in touch?" She exhaled the breath he had been holding. They both laughed. Talking over each other, "Way to..." "Need to…" They chuckled again. "Kansas, keep your emergency cell phone, pound one will get me. Remember you always wanted your own Bat Phone, now you have one."

He smiled. "You know it goes both ways if you want to call me." She smiled back at him. "You can't get rid of me that easy sweetheart." He cocked his head at her. His Angel never used terms of endearment, except for Kansas or pain my rear – which he chose to put in the term of endearment category.

Looking abashed and slightly disconcerted at her slip she went on. "What are you going to do after New Orleans?" Dean rubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know. Hopefully my Dad will call with another job. Or now that you have another ghost hunter on speed dial." The glint that came into her eyes gave him pause. "Kinky Kansas, having you do my bidding, there is something strangely perverse about it." An equally maniacal glint appeared in his eyes. "You know I would do your bidding in other areas too."

She laughed so hard he couldn't help but join in. By this time Dean knew the story behind her fear of being with the opposite sex. He kept it on an even keel soon she became used too and comfortable with the chick magnets flirting. "Tomorrow I am going to head to my contact and get us what we need for Louisiana job as well as a restock for your larder. Don't want your cache low on supplies."

'Right, weapons and holy water. What would his life be like without them?' Silently he wondered if maybe he would have had three out of four of his dreams or even four out of four by now if his Mom hadn't died? Cause he knew even without hunting that car would still be his. The twenty six year old didn't realize he had zoned out until he felt her hand over his. "Kansas?"

"Sorry Angel, my mind went for a walk." She gave him a once over checking to make sure everything was okay. "If you like what you see sweetheart, you can take it for a test drive." Expelling an exasperated sigh his Angel continued. "Then a few small errands. Is there anything you need to me get for you?" "No Angel, I think I am good." He thought of all he was going to do while she was out. But for now both their plans could wait.

The young man ran two hands over his face and down the back of his neck where he rested them. Leaning back into stretch he let his mind stop for a second. Once he brought everything back into focus and before he lost his nerve Dean told his friend what he had in mind. "Angel, I have come to the decision that you are right."

She inclined her head. "Right about?" She knew what was coming next. She wanted to handle the conversation correctly. This was not an easy decision for him. The auburn haired girl had watched the battle wagging for sometime now.

"I would like to go into Lawrence today. To Oak Hill." His Angel knelt in front of him no extra girly mushy stuff just, "lets go then." She smiled at him touching his face softly. They went into the cabin to change. His Angel finished the task a little sooner than Dean. She figured he needed time to prepare before his big sojourn down memory lane.

When he exited the cabin Dean found his best friend and confidant leaning up against his baby. 'What was she holding?' Upon closer inspection it was three wild sunflowers, wrapped with a big blue bow. "One for each of her boys." He smiled at her answer to his unasked question, the girl thought of everything.

Smiling he tossed his keys to her. "Angel why don't you drive?" She gave him a look for the records books. "Kansas, are you feeling okay?" His Angel took his pulse, checked his eyes. The plucky gal even went so far as to rest a hand against his head to take a temperature reading. 'Go ahead sweetheart.' Dean thought. 'You have me off the charts.'

Instead of saying what he was thinking he laughed and went with. "Angel, I know how much you love my baby. Thought you would like to drive her. With my permission this time." Smiling at him she said, "Hells Bells." Then she did something Dean did not expect at all. Kissed him on the lips, chastely, of course.

Still the touch of her soft lips against his made his heart jump and Mr. Wiggly wiggle. He watched her eyes as she registered that fact. The wooer didn't know what she would do. The normally opposed to anything physical at least in that respect brown eyed girl wrapped her arms around her friend and rested her head against his heart.

Dean brought his arms to rest around her, not tight just enough. When she pulled out of his embrace she said, "thank you Dean." He smiled, "thank you? For what exactly?" She grinned at him, eyes twinkling as she looked down, "that." They had said these words before, only this time she was comfortable with him. Big Timber didn't startle or scare her.

The warrior against dark evils knew what was behind the fear, her 'event in our lives that shape our core,' as she had discussed with him about so many months ago. The event they had been talking about then was he not thinking he was worth it, Jim and college. Hers Dean found out was so much worse…

"Hells Bells, Sweetheart, Hells Bells." His Angel opened the door for him. He tipped his imaginary hat at her. She tipped hers and handed him the flowers. When she sat in the driver's seat the smile that came across her face was brighter than the harvest moon that would lead them to their voodoo rich destination.

Turning to him she cocked her eyebrows and turned the key in the ignition. Dean appropriately put in AC/DC and leaned back for the ride. His Angel was very courteous with his baby. She talked to her, told her how wonderful she was. His best friend also told his baby how she knew Dean was very apprehensive about their destination. She went on to say, "Kansas was the strongest man she knew. He would make it through the impending battle."

Then in a small voice she confided, "maybe a few tears would be shed, ultimately though Kansas would be victorious." 'Wow' Dean thought, 'strongest man she new.' Then with her beautiful brown eyes twinkling against the early morning sun she looked up at him and back to the dash. As if answering his thoughts, she said to the Impala. "Handsomest man she knew too." The handsomest man his Angel knew sat a little straighter. 'Was she chuckling? He was damn handsome.'

By the time they reached Oak Hill the normally confident hunter's heart was palpating. When his Angel parked she reached over took his hand. "Dean." Nothing, when she didn't receive a response she changed tactic, "Sweetheart, we are here." He looked at her, eyes sad and far away. "I know Angel." She squeezed his hand. "Take all the time you need."

They both looked out the window at the row of lives in front of them. Unbeknownst to Dean this was not her first trip to visit with Mary Sophia Winchester. The Covenant member had made regular visits over the course of the summer to visit with Mrs. Winchester or her gravestone at least. The younger Mary filled the older one in on her boys, all three of them. And tried unsuccessfully to get a reading, which ultimately gave her hope.

"Angel will walk with me?" Dean asked. He was trying so hard to sound brave. She knew he was scared. With all the time they spent together they had learned each other's tells. Mary could see the increasing anxiety in his eyes. "Anything for you Kansas." His smile was sad when he looked at her, his voice serious when he spoke, "I do believe you mean that Angel." Her smile was brighter than a thousand sunflowers, "Anything for you Dean."

The man who was about to talk to his mother for the first time in decades touched a gentle hand to his Angel's face. The girl closed her eyes and for the smallest of seconds Dean felt her lean into his touch. When she opened her window's to the soul she said, "All our times have come…Here but now they're gone…Seasons don't fear the reaper, Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain…We can be like they are…Here but now they're gone, Came the last night of sadness…Then the door was open and the wind appeared…Come on baby...don't fear the reaper."

Dean expelled a pent up breath, half laughing, half choking down a sob. "**The Reaper**, **Blue Oyster Cult**. Gotta love a girl that appreciates the classics." The friends exited the 67 Impala. His Angel let the wounded heart hunter set the pace. He steps were slow but steady. When they reached Mary Sophia Winchester's headstone, the brown eyed girl held back wanting to provide Dean privacy. Talking to your mom for the first time in twenty years. Well, he was a proud man.

The freckled nose bun wearer watched him. He knelt down put the flowers in a vase next to the heavy cement marker. Dean ran his hand down the side. "Mom, I am sorry I have not been here in a while. Okay, two decades. I just didn't think I could continue the fight if I returned to see you. Dad needed me and well, he was here."

The first born son sighed and went on, "Doesn't mean I don't miss you, cause I do so much. Anyhow, Sammy is doing well. You would so proud of him. He is in college. A regular geek boy. Four point oh at Stanford University; he didn't get that from me." Dean ran a hand over her stone, tracing the name Winchester.

"Ability to tie shoelaces, cook a mean spaghetti sauce with meatballs and throw a punch. That I take credit for. Okay maybe Dad helped with the punch part, but defiantly not the cooking." The twenty six year old ran a hand over his face, "the brains, no I am afraid he inherited that from your side of the family." His Angel sighed he still thought he wasn't worth it. 'Oh my poor Kansas.'

Dean lowered himself till he was resting on his knees and in a small voice, as if it weren't between the son and his mother's headstone already. "Dad told me I have your heart though and apparently your stone eyed look. Though he usually says that part with a sigh and a hand through his hair. Oh Mom things haven't been so good lately…"

After an hour the twenty seven year old found a tree to lean against. Dean was still quietly talking to his mother. It was important, she might not have been there but Mary Winchester had shaped his life. John Winchester was hell bent on revenge, the song of grief.

Not that what he had accomplished wasn't significant and consequential. He did the best with what he had when he had it. It was just maybe he should have physically shown the boys more love. From all the stories he heard from her employer, Auggie and even Dean, John was a romantic and an involved father before the inferno consumed his wife and with it a part of his heart.

"Angel?" Dean was standing in front of her. Pulling her self from her musing she looked at him. "Can I introduce to my mother?" His request was sincere. The freckled nosed girl nodded and smiled to him. "I would be honored Kansas." The just spoke with his mom for the first time in decades to his mother son held out his hand, the girl placed hers in it. They walked in a comfortable silence to the older Mary's resting place.

"Mom, this is Mary Carney." Dean turned to her. She looked at him with an emotion he wasn't sure he wanted to name. "Mary this my mother, Mary Winchester." "Mrs. Winchester it is an honor and privilege. You bore two amazing sons. You would be proud of Dean he has single handedly held your family together. Your beautiful boys have made it this far because of your barn made one. You married a man who loves you unconditionally. I can only hope to have that one day. John has never given up on you. In most ways it's a wonderful devotion. When you see him next you tell him he did good."

Dean looked at his Angel she never spoke of men like that, at all. Hum, interesting very very interesting. What he thought was even more interesting was that he thought it was interesting. His mind wandered when he came back from his reverie he heard his Angel say. "Thank you, ma'am. "Bye, Mom." Dean said as he turned around. The five foot eight Irish girl stepped with him.

The twenty six year old instinctively put his arm at her lower back. "Thank you, Mary. Thank you for helping me to get here." She smiled at him. They were about ten steps away when she stopped. Be right back Dean. He turned and watched her crouch in front of his mother.

"Thank you for listening to your son today. It took a great amount of courage for him. You have my word ma'mm I won't leave him. He will never walk alone. Ave Maria, Pax Tecum." The now lighter hearted man shook his head his Angel was a unique one. Latin. Peace be with you.

…She had become like they are… …She had become like they are… …Come on baby… …Don't fear the reaper… The girl stood up and again walked beside him. Dean sighed a sigh of the man who had an enormous weight lifted off him. He felt a hand slide in his, he squeezed. They walked back to the car hand in hand.

When they reached the Impala his Angel held out the keys. The car owner nodded to the driver's side. Her smile was enough to know he did a good thing. "Kansas, I love this car." "That's my girl." Dean gave no clear indication whether he speaking about the girl or the car.

They who were headed to the land of voodoo and Bad Moon Rising spent of the afternoon packing their things and inventorying their stock. Writing a final list of things she would need to get for their trek down south. Neither had felt like doing the rest of what they had planned that day after the visit to the cemetery.

The Sunflower Cabin inhabitants finally hit the rose covered pillows at 12:30am. Normally they had their respective sides of the bed. That night when Dean turned the lights out, his Angel snuggled close to his warmth, careful not to come in contact with him. The wooer smiled to her back then he lifted an arm up the auburn haired girl scooted back into the comfort of his embrace.

"Sweetheart, are you okay? You know with the cemetery, were the voices bad?" The man queried his friend. "Yes Kansas, I am okay. Thank you for asking." 'Sweetheart' was just grateful he hadn't asked her about talking with Mrs. Winchester. She couldn't and wouldn't lie to him about not being able to get talk with her. But the conclusion he would have come up with after hearing her answer would not have been good.

"Mary, are you sure?" She reached down and rested her chin on his hand. "Yes Dean." The twenty seven year old never regretted sharing her gift with the hunter. He had taken in it stride. "So you are not a spoon bender, just a ghost talker?" Laughing she had replied, "Just a ghost talker." They didn't wake up until the alarm rang with the roosters at 5:00am.

October 1, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

The Covenant member went out to take care of securing the hunting supplies and a few other very important things. The hunter stayed back stored what needed to be stored around the Sunflower Cabin. By mid afternoon he was onto cooking his best friend a surprise dinner. He cooked everything from scratch. No out of the box shit for his Angel his… The fully recovered warrior smiled at the thought.

When all was ready on the Betty Crocker front he went to change. Dean put on the nicest clothes he had. A tie, he was wearing a tie, of his own volition. His brother, Dad and Jim would be giggling like schoolgirls. When the tracker of evil spirits finished changing he sat on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes, dress shoes. That sound he heard in his head as he slipped them on was Jim laughing his ass off.

A bed they had shared platonically for the last few months. Platonically. Oh sure they had woke up in compromising positions, when that happened they always joked about it. The dirty blond thought back to the morning after their first night together. "No Dean I am not much of an arborist." He smiled, "One day sweetheart, I will make you scream and you will enjoy it."

One day hadn't happened yet. Oh but it would. They had stayed on their sides of the bed, except for last night, his Angel actually snuggled into his relaxed into his embrace. He was on top of the world. The hunter knew she trusted him with her life. But last night confirmed she trusted him completely. Even with that unnamed something.

Dean stood up and smoothed the crease he made. He looked at the pillowcases, roses. His Angel said, "There are one to many fricking sunflowers in this garden of ours, we need a visual break." He would have preferred regular blue, but hey after the girl had done. The twenty six year old was in the bathroom when he heard her pull up. The newly shaved man dried his face off and applied aftershave.

Then he double timed it out side to help her with the supplies and whatever else she had purchased. "Kansas." She let out a catcall and whistle. The normally over confidant and cocky man had the good grace to blush. "Wow, you clean up more than nice." Dean straightened a little at her unabashed compliment he did look good.

Mary opened the passenger door and grabbed a couple of bags. The ghost annihilator reached in and grabbed the rest. The bags he grabbed were burlap. 'Supplies.' He expelled a sigh. "One day I promise you the hunting will be done and all the things you gave up will come back to you ten fold." Another heavy sigh. "Never make promises you don't intend to keep." "I don't." Dean Christopher Winchester prayed that it was an oath that would hold.

"Damn Kansas, that's a fine looking ass you got there." When he turned around from retrieving the 'supplies' his checks were flaming. "Your welcome to touch it Angel." Dean smirked thinking she would never take him up on his offer.

She inched closer to him, maintaining eye contact. Then with a totally cocky feminine wiles look she put an arm around him and touched his bum. This was the first time since her not so successful scaling of his tree his Angel had touched him in a boy girl manner. She smiled at him, "Smokin." He laughed, but his eyes said something totally different. Big Timber thickened with her intimate contact. Beautiful brown eyes held his gaze for a second. Then she turned around and headed into the cabin.

Dean practiced slow breathing techniques to bring his heart rate and Big Timber back into the normal range. Once he was confident that was the case he followed her into the Chateau Sunflower. He stopped at the door jam, ran a hand down the smooth wood and looked around what had become a home to him.

The twenty six year old would miss this place. Not just the physical structure, all it stood for. The barn event, that's what they had taken to calling it, might have brought them here. But all that Dean learned after he got here. He wouldn't change for anything. The hunter would even willing go another round with his father. Though a second time though he would have fought back.

Mary's breath was taken away when she walked into the cabin. Her Kansas had placed fresh sunflowers on the coffee table. Pictures they had tacked on the wall had been framed. In the kitchen there were candles and a beautiful white eyelet tablecloth. 'Were those cloth napkins?' She smiled when she realized she had thought of the Winchester man as her Kansas. Chuckling at her self she went into the bedroom to change.

The no longer a nursemaid changed into the girliest clothes she had. While she was put her top on her eyes roved over the bed. A bed they had shared for months. Platonically. Oh not that he wouldn't have put out as he said it if she asked or gave him any indication she wanted to.

Dean was the only person she had given specific details to about her attack. Aside from John that was and that was because he was there to literally put her pieces back together. Even then though, Dean was the only person she talked with about the mental effects. He understood her fear at getting physical with some and more importantly her Kansas understood her apprehension of trusting some one with that unnamed something.

Last night, she figured they both needed comfort. His arms were safe, probably the safest place she knew. When he held her it was as if there was no outside world just them. She shook her head to clear the thoughts, she couldn't think like that. It could get them killed. The brown eyed girl looked in the mirror and turned her head at the image. Then she let her hair down and put a little make up on.

When she reentered the kitchen it was Dean's turn to whistle and cat call. His Angel hid a nice rack under her regular clothes. And her hair. Wow. Angels above it was beautiful. She smiled kindly at his appraising. The wooer never made her feel less beautiful because she wasn't a size two.

"You did all this?" The girl questioned. "Dean the domestic in action." He replied tipping his stirring spoon at her. She laughed, "Okay then I have desert taken care of." The second the words were out of her mouth she realized the double entendre. The look in Kansas's eyes told her he would be willing to skip dinner and go straight to desert. Her being the confection in discussion.

Swallowing at the unhidden passion swirling in his eyes she mumbled, "I'll be back" and scurried out of the wooden structure. She knew they both needed a breather. Besides there was something she wanted to retrieve from her vehicle.

Her beat up, many thousands of miles on him, Chevy truck. Miles, she had taken to calling her truck Miles, because no matter how many they went, he stayed with her. Once she had the item in one hand, she ran the other down Miles' hood. "Tomorrow darlin we will be on a road to nowhere good. You keep us safe."

When the waist long auburn haired girl returned dinner was waiting on the table. Dean held the chair out for her. "Thank you kind sir." He playfully smacked her on the ass as she went to sit down. She looked up at him there was a hunger in her dark eyes, a voracity for something other than food.

"Turnabout is fair play Angel." She just laughed. As it turns out they did a lot of that. Dinner was a non stop laugh riot. They kept each other in stitches, neither really wanting to face the fact they were going to leave each other. The wayward strays had become each other's best friend and maybe something else but they weren't sure what.

When dinner concluded they took turns using the water closet. Lady first, gentleman second. When the gentleman entered the living room he noticed she had wrapped boxes with her. His smile widened and his tightened his grip on the bags in his hand. The hazel eyed Winchester took a seat in the chair opposite her.

Dean cocked his eyebrows. His Angel mimicked the movement. "Great minds think alike." They said in unison. Each stray sighed it felt so comfortable and yet sad at the same time. "Ladies first." The tie wearer acquiesced with a big hand flourish.

The skeleton on her wrist danced as she handed him the biggest to the smallest. All the presents were wrapped. The Kansas native had told her about wrapping and how it was the most important part. Dean took his time opening the gift.

When he saw what the box housed he was speechless. His leather jacket, cleaned and blood free. "How did… I though it…" The jacket owner couldn't even form whole sentences. Angel watched him and the way he held it. It was heart wrenchingly clear how important it was. When Dean was able to formulate his thoughts into words he gave her the background.

"Sammy bought this for me when I had pneumonia." She waited for him to continue, knowing he would. Dean had told her countless number of Sammy and Dean stories, most of them very telling. They really only had each other. Angel didn't doubt Dean was as important to Sam as Sam was to Dean. The bestest brother and cool brother extraordinaire, them against the world. They would get it back. It would take time, but they would.

"I was fifteen. We were on a job in Weeping fucking Water, Nebraska…" The girl thought back to that first night "The dreams, oh fuck. Please make them go away. My head is going to explode. The room is swimming. I hate Nebraska." She remembered thinking what did the cornhusker state have to do with anything. Now she was going to find out. He had been dreaming of this event.

"Angel?" The brown eyed girl brought her attention back to her friend. "Yes." He looked at her, "You zoned out on me, where did you go?" She closed her eyes when she opened them her Kansas knew he wasn't going to like what she said.

"Do you remember our first conversation?" Hazel eyes blinked, "You mean the very first phone call?" His Angel nodded in the affirmative. "Its hazy, the only two things that stand out are you yelling, 'Dean Christopher Winchester. Don't you dare say that. Not after everything I went through to make sure that didn't happen' and being relieved when you 'on my way.'" Mary laughed at his imitation of her girl voice.

"You said "the dreams, oh fuck. Please make them go away. My head is going to explode. The room is swimming. I hate Nebraska." He swallowed as she went on. "You were dreaming about this?" The five foot eight sorta ghost hunter held a hand up to his leather jacket. Not knowing if he could talk with an even voice Dean nodded yes. "Oh Kansas, I'm gonna hate Nebraska too, aren't I?" Her Kansas reached over and held her hand, "Yeah sweetheart I get the feeling you kinda are."

Sighing the now twenty six year old continued, "It was the middle of November and as cold as a witches tit. One of the original maidens didn't want to let go of the battle between the settlers and Indians. She continued to take men as solace. The not ready to let it go chick would drag them into the river and… Turns out her husbands name had been Samuel. Any man with that name or variation was fair game. My father used eleven year old Sammy as bait." His Angel wished she could say she was surprised truth was, she wasn't.

"Keep on eye on your brother, Dean. Don't let him out of your sight." Those words were said with the resign of a person who had had them embossed in his brain. The girl feared what she would hear next. John Winchester was a phy ops genius for the Marine Corps he employed all the techniques he had learned on his children.

"He had other ways making us fall in line, equally as torturous, but they didn't leave any scars you could see?" His Angel questioned with a sad smile, she had feeling from the look on his face that this was not one of those times. Dean swallowed, "Fraid I wasn't that lucky." He quietly loosened his tie unbuttoned the button at the top of his shirt then pulled it off.

When he went for his undershirt, her eyes grew watery, she had scene the scars but she honestly didn't think they were from a beating. After the vitiated young man had divested himself of the white under shirt he turned around. He flinched when she ran a hand over the reminders of that night so long ago.

The hunter went to turn his Angel stayed him with a hand. She leaned her head up and kissed the scars. He could taste the salt from his tears as they ran over his lip and down his chin. Then she put her arms around him and hugged him, resting her head on the area she just kissed.

Dean rested his arms over hers. He could feel the warmth of her tears on his back. He released his arms and slowly turned around so he was facing her. His Angel hugged him and ran her lips over his rapidly beating heart. "Out of the night that covers me, black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul." 'Invictus.' The Winchester warrior against evil was intimately acquainted with the piece. He had used it on his college applications.

It wasn't the first time she had used the poem, but somehow this time it felt different, she wanted him to know she didn't feel sorry for him, the opposite in fact. Before he could stop himself the wooer reached down and kissed her, on the lips and not chastely. When he felt her body tense he instinctively loosened the pressure.

To his surprise she brought her hands up to his neck and pulled him down to easier facilitate the contact. When they came up for air neither knew what to say or do. 'Imagine,' Dean thought, 'me not knowing what to do with a woman.' His Angel rested a hand on his stomach till her breathing returned to normal. "Kansas, you got game." The man with game laughed. "Right back at you sweetheart."

With her heart rate back in safe range Mary patted her Kansas's stomach. "Okay so I am going to hate Nebraska…" He was keen to her change of topics. 'No more hanky panky. Got it.' The shirtless man slide back into the white cotton Hanes product. 'Damn if he were as hard as the come.' If they kept going like this he was going to have to head out back into the copse of trees for some alone time with his. "Okay Angel, here it goes."

December 15, 1993/October 1, 2005Weeping Water, Nebraska/Lone Star, Kansas

"Dean, what if she gets me?" A nervous eleven year old Sam asked. "Sammy, Sam." His kid brother wanted to be more grown up. Sammy was for kids he said. "Sam, Dad has his sights trained on her. You know how good a shot he is." Brown green windows of doubt look at him.

Sighing Dean continued, "Just stay where I can see you Amos. Promise me." "I promise Craven." Dean smiled they used their code names when they were ignoring fear. Then he ruffled his little brother's hair, hair that had a complete mind of its own.

"About a half hour later the howling started." Present day Dean paused. "Dean I am scared." Sam Winchester said his voice shaky. Before the older sibling could answer he heard his father's voice in his ear. "Shut him the fuck up." Oh hell it was going to be one of those nights he thought.

Current day Dean looked at his Angel. "My Dad, as you know can be very focused. There were times when this trait of his caused him to forget we weren't Marines, just his children." The brown eyed girl gave him an, 'I hear you' nod.

"Sammy, you have to be quiet, please." The fifteen year old saw his moppet haired brother give him an understanding look, kid knew his Dad too. His cool brother extraordinaire put on a brave face as he sat there. Judging by the concentration in his brown green eyes he was singing something. Something in his head, a trick that his bestest brother taught him.

Dean heard a rustling behind him, a crackling, then he smelled it. 'Shit, fire.' The young hunter turned for a second to see where it was. That was all it took. When he turned back from seeing the flames Sam was walking towards him. The apparition grabbed him.

The older brother didn't think twice he charged her. Running her straight into her the creek, saying the expelling chant the whole time. He stayed in that damn river with her for almost an hour, tossing, turning and chanting. His Angel shuttered, she could almost guess what happened next and it wasn't going to be pretty.

"My Dad let me stay in there the whole time. I guess I was grateful, I knew what was going to happen when I emerged from Weeping fucking Water creek." Dean took a deep breath this event never left his mind, it was the one and only time his father ever beat him to a bloody pulp. Including the situation that brought him and his Angel together.

"The ole man wouldn't even let me out, made me stand in the freezing cold water which for some reason even though it was December hadn't frozen over yet. The man yelled at me for an eternity. When I dared to let myself look at Sammy his eyes were puffy tears were streaming down his chin. With a resolve I didn't even know I had I squared mine and looked at my father. He punched me so hard I feel back into the water."

His Angel closed her eyes. When she opened him she ran a hand down the scar under his eye. Dean closed his windows and dropped his head, silently answering her unasked question. When her hand lifted he slowly brought his eyelids up. The look she gave, he knew was directed towards his father. 'Oh John,' the auburn haired lady thought.

"Get up Dean, take it like a man." John Winchester spat. "By this time hypothermia was setting in. My joints were stiffing and not in a Big Timber sorta way." His Angel smiled at his attempt to break the sad story. Her heart went out to all parties involved. There is a point in the life of hunter where you cross a line. If you realize and are able to change you will live, if you don't something inside you dies. John thank Saint Bridget changed.

"Anyhow my body was aching from the cold water, the biting wind and the near zero temperature. When I stood up he grabbed me by the back of my neck and literally dragged me over to this large ass bolder…" His voice trailed off. "Kansas, you don't have to go on, I can fill in the blanks." He caressed his hands over the jacket.

"Sammy, you come here." My Dad was in a rage, I had never scene him like that. Not before or since." The twenty seven year old watched her friend. Dean was back at the event. "Poor Sam, he was shaking so bad, he was terrified for me and mad at my father. That was his turning point. He never looked at our Dad the same way again. If he EVER found out what happened with the Great Missouri Barn Incident, they we never speak again." Then as an after thought added, "not that they do much now."

He looked out the window behind his Angel and took a deep calming breath. "Dad, whipped off his belt. Beat my backside with a fury. I can still smell the blood see it running down the rock. The man told Sam to watch. We both learned. You break the rules, you pay consequences." Dean stretched he could still feel the sting of the leather against his frozen backside.

"By the time my Dad was done whipping my back to threads, I could hardly move. He just left me there. I think the only reason he even stopped was I finally cried out. Bit my lip as long as I could but at one point, the pain just… Sammy had to help me. It was beyond embarrassing. Took geek boy and me over a half hour to make it to the place we had been staying. By then I was so cold." Again the storyteller looked out the window, 'when you don't want the other person to know what you are thinking look at the horizon.'

So did his Angel, she knew the safe house in Weeping Water intimately, even the rock. At least now she knew were the blood came from, 'her Kansas.' She thought back to an earlier conversation of theirs. "…Before he walloped my ass he always told me why first. Never just paddled it, well Weeping…" Yeah she was beginning to hate Nebraska too.

"Craven, what do I do?" Sam asked in a crocked out whisper. "My back was welted and bloody. My body was beyond shaking from the cold, my cough rattled the windows." Brown eyes looked at him sadly, "You were in shock?" The twenty six year old returned the doleful expression "Shock, fuck shock I was past that. No shock would have been welcomed. My body was heading to Oak Hill. The only reason I didn't was because of Sammy. He needed me."

'Needed me.' The way the man said it. He didn't believe it to be true now. Her poor Kansas thought no one needed him. And to him that was his only gift, being the person someone needed. Dean might have thought they didn't want him, but at least they needed him. Small fingers placed themselves over his large hands. The annihilator of all things apparition flipped his hand over and entwined their hands. His Angel motioned for him to go on.

"As quiet as we could we snuck in the house were staying at. It didn't matter, my Dad wasn't even there." He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. Just like his father. It was unconscious. "When we realized it was just us, I told Sam we had to get me cleaned up and warm."

The intake of her breath was nothing compared to the intake of his when Sammy cleaned it. "Blood seeped through my frozen layers. Sam had to peel off the clothes. Holy fuck, the kid tried to be gentle but the skin and the clothes had bonded together in some places…" She swallowed.

"…I remember him saying over and over again. My fault, my fault, my fault. That was it for Sammy, if my Dad smacked me the kid always thought it was his fault. Why didn't he understand that it was my actions that resulted in me catching the strap, not his?" The Winchester warrior rubbed his face again.

October 1, 2005 Lone Star, Kansas

Mary looked at her friend and decided to answer with what she was really thinking. Dean might not appreciate it but as he said to her all the time, 'start as you mean to go on.' "Because to him then it gave him purpose. From all the stories you have told me and what I have heard him say when he calls, he feels like the forgotten one."

The older brother swallowed and went to say something. The now shoeless girl stopped him with a head nod. "You had your mother in your life and the good part of your Dad. Not that after the inferno that consumed your mom he didn't have good moments. But let's be honest Kansas, it changed him and not for the better…" The safe house residents looked at their hands and each other. Dean nodded for her to talk.

"Sam even if by default was your responsibility. Oh your father paid for the food that was put on the table and tucked you in. But the day to day, that was you. To Sam you not your father were his primary caregiver. When something happened to you, of course he was going to feel responsible. You have told me you always told him, 'I will protect you Sammy.' Somewhere inside him, he wanted to repay the favor. And lets face it Kansas with some of the stories you have relayed, you did take a punishment to keep the pressure of your brother." "True." Was her Kansas's quiet one word answer to her statement.

"All his life he was 'take care of your brother Dean.' You weren't the only one who heard those words. He did too. Sam wondered how come it wasn't take care of your son's John. Somewhere in there he must have thought you were John's son and he was yours. I know it sounds a little skewed and I am probably not saying right…" Dean sighed, "but I get the point."

She turned her head, "you all have your demons to battle, even Sam. Never doubt that he loves you though. You played me that voicemail. "I love you Dean, I will always need a brother like you. If I may be so bold…" The girl stretched her neck to work out a kink. Her Kansas lifted and eyebrow and with his free hand rolled his hand as if to say, 'go ahead.'

"Maybe you shouldn't protect him so much." Hazel eyes blazed at her. Sighing Dean's Angel continued. "By that I mean, now that he is old enough, talk to him. Tell him what you did and why. I know chick flick shit ain't your thing. Caring and sharing is for us woman folk. But it's also for people who watch Oprah." The man in the Hanes shirt suddenly found the floor entrancing to stare at.

"Sam in going to continue to carry that chip on his shoulder until someone tells him he matters. He thinks he was an after thought. 'Take care of your brother Dean.' I bet if you ask him just once he wanted to hear take care of Sammy Dean. Would also wager a guess that in some small way he loved your Dad more when John punched him, because at least then he knew that his Dad saw him, not just Dean's little brother."

The listener rolled his jaw and closed his pain filled tired eyes. He had never really thought about it from the kid's perspective. What his Angel was saying made sense, lots and lots of it. "He wanted to be part of the boys club and when he realized he would always be 'take care of your brother Dean' and not a full fledged member he wanted out. It wasn't that he didn't know that you loved him and loved him beyond measure…"

Dean cleared his throat at the excessive chickiness of the explanation, not again that she was wrong he did love his geek boy brother beyond measure. "Maybe now you should tell him some of things you have done for him. Not to make him feel bad, but to make him understand. Part of him wanted you to get you both out. Part of him wanted to be acknowledged as a Winchester hunter. I'll wager the battle wages on inside him even now. 'What if they get hurt and I could have been there to help?" His Angel stopped and looked at him, dead in the eye. "Do not let Winchester Male Pride stand in the way.'

Dean abruptly stood up and headed outside. Mary hung her head. 'Me and my stupid big mouth.' She ran her hands over her face and through her hair. When the auburn haired girl worked out the knots she took her fingers and worked the long strands into a knot. Sighing she stood up went over to the chair where her friend had been sitting and folded his shirt and tie. 'A tie.' The Covenant member laughed.

Bare feet padded to the kitchen. The dishwasher was on the last dirty offender when she heard the door open. "Angel?" The hunter's voice carried from the living room. "In the kitchen Kansas." She replied as she turned off the water. When the dirty blond walked into the kitchen his Angel was bent over putting a pan away.

He swallowed at the silhouette of her ass through the skirt. The girl heard him shift his weight. Task completed she stood up and looked at him. Dean knew his eyes must have been saying girl I want to fuck your brains out. The normally confident wooer of all things female prayed that didn't scare her. Because quite frankly he was at a loss as for how to change his expression at the moment.

The ghost tracker needn't have worried. She wasn't frightened. "Grab your mug Kansas lets head back into out presents." Dean shook himself and did what she bid. Grabbed his mug and went back out to the gifts. When they were seated she picked up his coat from its resting place over the back of his chair. "Do you want to finish telling me what happened or…" His Angel was to kind, she knew the less he kept bottled up.

December, 1993/October 1, 2005Weeping Water, Nebraska/Lone Star, Kansas

Taking a sip of the cocoa the older brother went back to the unhappy memory. "Amos it is not your fault it is no ones fault. Shit happens." The fifteen year old paused he needed to get his breathing under control. Everything hurt. "You said a bad word Dean." She laughed, "He does know they are regular part of your vocabulary now?" His raised eyebrows told her the answer.

"Sam's hands were shaking when he wiped the blood off my back. I tried not to make noise you know be the strong silent stoic type. But I couldn't help it my back was lashed way open in some places. My father taught me one hell of a lesson. I told you if we broke a rule that warranted a punishment of that nature than a memorable one it would be. That way we wouldn't disrespect his orders again. Guess the old man wasn't kidding. Poor Sammy actually had to dig leather pieces out of my skin."

When the orator looked up at his Angel, tears were silently tracing a path down her checks. He moved out of his chair and sat next to her. Using his thumbs he wiped the tears away. "Don't cry for me Angel, I made it, I am still here. And I am still the most handsome man you know. Besides didn't you say something to the effect scars make a man sexy?"

The now in a messy bun girl touched his face with her hands. "Your capacity to forgive is amazing." Dean laughed, humorlessly. "When Sam finished he put salve on my back and taped an old clean t-shirt to it." She didn't miss the emphasis on the word clean. For everything he was still Dean the Domestic.

"Then we got me out of my wet clothes. That memory will stick with me forever. I was rattling more than the windows did with the storm last week. My heart was beating so weird. By the time we got warm dry clothes on me, my body felt as if pins were sticking it. Well most of my sexy body…" The ladies man gave his friend an overly exaggerated wanna wanna look with his eyes. She sighed and motioned for him to go on. "…my back felt as if I have been flayed like a fish." Silently his Angel said, 'it had.'

"Sammy make me something warm, please." The younger brother cringed at the desperation in his bestest brother's voice. Dean was always the strong one. He couldn't and wouldn't loose him. Then he would have no one. "Water, coffee, anything." The beaten teenager rasped out.

"He made me coffee that I swear put hair on my baby toes it was so hot and strong. Then he took the covers of his bed and put them over me, snuggling in close next to me. Body heat. He was trying to get me to thaw out." She touched the jacket, thinking of all it stood for. The ghost talker had done the right thing having it cleaned.

"I had four cups of that horrid swill. Sammy hugged me for hours, rubbing my arms, legs, anything but my battered back to get me warm." The twenty six year old gripped the jacket. "Then my father came back." His Angel swallowed. Dean looked at her. "Yeah. Tell me about it." Their gazes fell to the leather article.

"Dean, Dad's here." The exhausted older brother bit a lip to help control the convulsions his body was feeling. "I know Sammy. You go and see if he needs anything." Dean laughed when he said the next part. "Defiant Sam in Action."

Sliding out of bed the eleven year old warrior stood in front of Dean. It was cool brother extraordinaire's turn to protect his brother. The moppet was ready for battle. "Sam what are you doing?" The enervated Winchester could barley speak. His horse voice belayed the fact he had swallow half the creeks water. "Taking care of you Dean." The present day bestest brother looked at her, pride in his eye. "He would have killed my Dad, I am sure of it as we are sitting here." She was too.

The door to their room opened. John looked at his sons. The look on little Sammy's, okay getting bigger now, face gave him pause. The father gave him a look that said 'message received.' Sammy didn't flinch, didn't budge nothing. "Boys." Brown green eyes just looked at him with an unwavering stare saying zip.

"Samuel, do you have something you would like to say?" His eleven year old leveled a murderous glaze at him. "Yes, sir. But I need to take care of Dean." The father and his eldest son jerked at the calmness of the statement. Ever the peacemaker, Dean crocked out, "Enough Sammy, Enough. Just come back and stay with me. Please it helped."

The Dad knew it was bad if his Imp didn't even acknowledge him. His floppy haired centurion turned around and climbed under the covers with his brother. John assessed the situation. Both of his son's effectively gave him the heave ho. 'Change tactics Johnny boy.' The consternated father turned around and walked out.

He stood outside their door. The man hoped to hear how bad it really was. John was not disappointed. He heard the older one talk first. "Sammy, you are damn lucky he didn't smack you for talk like that." John rested his head against the door. He had done everything wrong. All of it. 'Fuck.' The kid's response confirmed what he already knew he would never get his younger son's adoration back.

"You take care of us everyday, Dad and I. If he can't return the favor with anything than what he did last night. Let him hit me. We could be a matching set." Dean's cough worried him, but it was the boy's words that scared him. To his very core. "Sammy please, I need to know you will be okay. You might be all he has left." Dean's Angel frowned. She had used those same words, 'let him hit me. We could be a matching set.'

"…All he has left." With the simple matter of fact statement from his Imp, his wonderful son, John knew he fucked up. Irrevocably. He went to the phone on the table, grabbed it and pulled it with him. "Its John, I need your help. We are at the safe house in Weeping Water. Auggie, bring your black bag. Please." The former Marine disconnected the call and continued to listen in on his children.

Sam's voice was on the verge of tears. John knew how his little one felt. "Dean you can't die. You are strong fight it. Fight it for me. Please." The eleven year olds words gave permission for the tears to fall. "Sammy I would do anything for you, including fight. My body might not be as strong as my will." All the Winchester's sniffled. "It has to be." The words were said with such confidence all three Winchester Boys believed them.

John headed to the truck. Ten minutes later he knocked on their door with a few things he hoped would help his courageous and scourged son. After the father slowly opened it he found his youngest holding on tight to his oldest.

"Sam, do you think you could go get your brother a glass of warm water." Brown green eyes locked on him, wordlessly saying, "If you think I am going to leave him, go fuck yourself." "I have some medicine that will help him. Please son, you have my word I won't hurt your brother."

Sam's face hardened. Boy had the Winchester bravado he had to give him that. The eleven year old looked at Dean. "Go ahead Sammy. Dad ain't gonna raise his hand to me." The father swallowed at the fact his eldest didn't say wasn't going to hurt me. Sam climbed out of bed and quietly headed to the kitchen.

"How ya doing Imp?" John tentatively asked his son. He didn't know what he thought using Imp would do, but it didn't help. Dean gave him a look that trumped Sam's. "You left me, left me to die. Hitting me, I earned it. Whipping me, I deserved it. But leaving me to die, why? If you don't love me anymore. Wouldn't it be easier to just leave one night and never come back?" Before the embattled father could answer his younger son came back with the water.

Dean focused on his cool brother extraordinaire. The floppy hair one helped his bestest brother sit up enough to get the pills and water down. "Thanks Sam." John could hear the fluid in his son's lungs rattling around. The older sibling knew he needed to talk with his Dad. He didn't think he would last the night and he and his Dad couldn't leave things the way they were. There was Sammy to think about.

"Do me a favor Sam. Get me another pan." Tormented brown green eyes looked from Dean to John and back to Dean. Silent brother communication in action, again. The older brother nodded. The younger exited as silently as he came in.

His eldest son was the bravest person John knew. Dean Christopher Winchester would never shy away from anything. Death was looking him in the eye and he still wanted to make things right with his Dad. With leadened legs John got up and softly closed the door. As he was going to sit back down he heard Dean's sharp in take of breath. The kid's cough's sent shivers through the windows. John helped his son expel some of the fluid that had been sticking to his lungs.

When the spell had past he eased his boy back down to his side. There was no way Dean could lay on his back, not for a long time. It would be a longer time yet till the dirty blond could lie on it and not think about the whole Weeping Water incident.

"Dean, I was wrong. I should have never let you stay in the water as long as I did. I should have never thrown you over that rock. And I should have never left you. I should have never done a lot of things." Dean looked at him, his hazel eyes glassed over with fever and sickness. "Then why did you?" John ran a shaking hand over his face. "We both know it's been a long time son since I was the 'World's Greatest Dad."

The bed ridden son leaning on his side frowned at the memory the words 'World's Greatest Dad' brought to the forefront of his mind. Then he noticed his fathers trembling hand. He was too tired to argue too tired to wag war. He would die here in this fucking ugly cabin in fucking Nebraska. What had he ever done to this fucking state? Die… With a slightly muddled brain he wondered if there would be Angel's where he was going… "Never mind."

"Dean Christopher Winchester." The man half yelled. His child's face gave him a look that said, 'go a head hit me, just make sure you finish the job this time.' The heartbroken father sighed. "Son, I love you, beyond words and beyond measure." His boy's expression never changed, Mary's stone eyed look was staring him down.

"Oh hell Dean, I am not perfect. Last night I saw the flames and thought you were dead. Let's face it son our family doesn't have a good track record with fires." At that Dean's expression soften, a little. Still a little was better than impenetrable rock. "When Sammy starting walking straight towards it, my mind snapped. I couldn't see you, just your brother's expression of pure terror. By the time you charged the weeping woman, my heart had stopped."

Both riffle name bearing men took deep breaths. Dean's rattled like a death knell. John closed his eyes for a second he could not loose his Imp. His teenaged now, where had the time gone, warrior, was his heart and soul. "After that I became my father." The fifteen year old shuttered. Dean had met his grandfather, once.

"There is no excuse for any of what I did. I should have hulled you out of the water the minute you went under. You are more important to me than anything son, you have to believe me." His son's face changed when heard the desolate sadness in his father voice. "I do Dad. I do believe you. And I messed up. My eyes were off Sammy for a second and he moved. If I had followed your orders none of this would have happened. I deserved my punishment." Dean's face was back to impervious stone.

"Dean you did not deserve what happened. No you shouldn't have taken your eyes off your brother no he shouldn't moved. But I should not have handled it the way I did. There is a difference between discipline and violence. Your back wasn't a punishment it was brutality." Dean coughed again it took him longer to regain his breath this time.

"You made Sammy watch Dad." John ran a hand over the mountain of blankets covering his son. "So he would never disobey again. If he watched what would happen to you…" The father's voice trailed off. His boy was staring to shake again, almost to the point of convulsions. "Dean, look at me." His son's gaze focused on him. "I love you and I am sorry for the way I handled things. A lot of things."

His son swallowed a harsh breath. "Dad we all made mistakes. You have never abused us. In fact, I am sure there were times when I deserved a spanking and you just walked away rather than turn me over your knee. When you did paddle my bum it was so I would know how important what I had done wrong was. It's not the whopping it's you leaving me."

John reached for his son and held him as tightly as he dared without making his discomfort worse. "Dean when I realized what I was doing. I had to calm down before I killed you. Leaving. I don't know what else to say. I was wrong." At that Dean relaxed into his fathers embrace. "Dad I am sorry I messed up, if Sammy had…" The Dad rested his chin on his son's head, "he didn't."

Taking a calming breath the father talked on he knew his proud son wasn't going to like what he had to say. "I called a friend of mine Dean, he is going to come and take a look at you." The son leaned back and looked at his Dad. "Look at me?" His child was mortified at the thought.

John sighed, "We both know how sick you are. This is past my basic medical knowledge. You will like this man. His name is Mr. Matthews." "Yes, sir." His child's cadence was detached. The father shook his head he would let it go, "so Sammy patched you up?" John asked trying to keep his voice neutral. Judging by the shift his son gave it wasn't as neutral as he thought. "Yes, sir." 'Sir,' he sighed. The father made sure to make eye contact. "Dean, you don't have to call me sir."

John knew his son was worried that he was going to do something to Sam. The Dad sighed that would come later. Normally he wouldn't have let it go. As much as it would have pained him, he would have paddled Sammy but good the minute he returned. Never let it go that makes the punishment worse, that makes it torture. But this was a special circumstance. Dean had to be taken care of first.

"He cleaned it as best he could. Salved it down and covered it. We were more worried about keeping me warm." As if on queue Sam knocked on the door. "Come in Sam." The haggard father bid his son. The eleven year old walked in holding a pan with two potholders. The bedridden child looked at his Dad as if to say 'not now, please.' John nodded, 'no not now.'

"Thanks Sam. You're my cool brother extraordinaire, I couldn't ask for a better one." Dean might have said it as an icebreaker for the tension in the room. Didn't make the statement any less true. The brown haired brother went around the other side of the bed. He silently slid out the cold pan. Then just as quietly put in the warm one. The shivering teenager snuggled into the warmth.

"Dean, can I take a look at your back?" The father was afraid to look at Sam, the little one who was already so much like him. With a wrinkled nose and a cut open cheek the injured son said "Yes Dad." He slowly and with his father's assistance rolled over, leaning on the pan and a gazillion covers.

The former Marine eased his son's layers up and slowly pulled the now ruined Black Sabbath/Blue Oyster Cult from their appropriately named for the situation Black and Blue tour tee shirt down. John's hands shook when he saw what he had done. His valiant young man's skin was open and red in places. Welted and heavily swollen in others.

Mary and all the Angels would show him no mercy and none was what he deserved. Not since before his kid's ninth birthday had he hit his son without talking to him first. Even then that was one swat, granted full force but still it was through clothing. This he flayed his son's back open. He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. Then he put the shirt and eighty million or so layers back. The father made sure Dean was comfortable kissed him on the forehead and left.

The twenty seven year old looked at his Angel. "Sammy stayed under the covers with me till Mr. Matthews came. Then he stood watch at the head of the bed." Something in her expression gave him pause. Sam had used that look many a time. "What?" He asked. "Nothing Kansas, nothing." Hum, nothing his ass. "Mr. Matthews was a very kind black man." Angel knew full well who Augustus Matthews was. 'Why had he not told her this?'

"Mr. Matthews asked me if I would mind him checking me out. He was so gentle with me. Without stripping me of my dignity. Until I meet you, I didn't know there were other people in the world like that." She swallowed reflexively and looked at his jacket.

"Thank you for the compliment Kansas. It means the world to me." Dean cocked his head and said "you are most welcome." Wordlessly he wondered if she used that phrase on purpose. Something was wrong he knew it. He also knew she was going to tell him jack. His Angel brought stubborn to a whole new level.

"Mr. Matthews was good to Sam too." The tracker of things that go bump in the night went back in time again. "Samuel, it appears you did a fine job keeping your brother from deaths clutches. Would you mind helping me?" Sam smiled at the man who was going to save his bestest brother and in what he hoped was a confidant voice replied. "Of course Mr. Matthews, what do you need me to do?"

"He had Sammy help me sit up. Oh I know it was just so that the kid would be able to stay with me. But it truly made me feel better to have Sammy with me. I didn't want to be alone with this strange man who was going to see that my father beat me so bad I needed stitches. Smart man Mr. Matthews he knew if Sammy were there then I would have some place to focus my attention."

Mary closed her eyes at the image that was flitting through her head. Stitching strap marks was nothing new to Augustus Matthews, nothing new at all. Dean took a sip of his cocoa and went back to telling his Angel about Mr. Matthews, "He took my pulse, then my temperature, listened to my heart and lungs."

Hazel eyes looked out the window. "The kind man told me my heart didn't have a normal rhythm." The hunter laughed. Sammy told him "that's okay Mr. Matthews nothing is normal about Dean." He grimaced, "Mr. Matthews smiled at my cool brother extraordinaire's quip. Still he went on to tell me it might not ever go back to beating normal. I told that was okay, nothing about me was normal. Then I winked at Sammy." Mary laughed.

"Those tasks completed, he asked me if I would mind him checking out my back. My Dad thought it might need stitches." His Angel smoothed her hand over the jacket, much like she would him during his initial rehab. She told him she was smoothing out his wrinkles. "I remember Mr. Matthews voice trembled a little when he told me I did." The brown eyed girl ran a hand over his long since healed back. The twenty six year old smiled at the unconscious gesture.

"Anyhow, later the following week I was allowed outside, liberated if only for a blessed little while." Dean sighed, "By that point I was experiencing a little cabin fever." She patted his jacket. "I wouldn't know anything about that." He chuckled. "So I can be a pain in the ass." His Angel raised an eye at him, "really, I hadn't noticed." Both Dean and his Angel laughed.

"When Dad came in my room and told me it was warm enough that afternoon to go outside, I wanted to kiss him. Then quickly before he changed his mind, I wrapped a blanket around my back and padded outside. Sam was waiting for us his brown green eyes happy to see me moving. The little shit prepared lunch and everything." Angel smiled at the look in his eyes. "Okay it was yogurt and crushed fruit. But still it was my first non chicken broth meal. It was heavenly."

Clad in two of his sibling's hand me down shirts Sam smiled at his big bro. "Dean, I thought you might like something almost solid. Am sorry its not steak and potatoes." The bestest brother reached over and squeezed Sam's shoulder, "dude its not chicken broth. I love you."

The younger brother chuckled at the almost glee in Dean's voice. "Mr. Matthews said to try a few bites and if it stays down, you can finish the bowl." With steady hands the fifteen year old picked up the bowl and did just that. "Thanks Sammy, Sam. It tastes so cool." The teenager said after swallowing a few spoon fulls.

John watched his boys, the ease with which they bantered and got on. He almost hated to break the moment, almost. "We need to talk boys." Two sets of big eyes swung towards him. Dean shifted in front of Sam ever so slightly. The older brother knew his little one's time had come. "Yes sir," was their unison response.

"Samuel..." The Dad could see the look in Dean eye's change. It could only be described as feral, which for the kid was a foreign look. Samuel meant only bad things. "I have talked to your brother and explained that what happened the night at the water was handled incorrectly. I have apologized to Dean and would like to apologize to you as well. My reaction to the chain of events that occurred was uncalled for. I should have never done what I did." John swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at his youngest.

"Sir." Was Sam's only reply. He watched Dean nudge his brother, Sam looked at him. They had an entire conversation without speaking, again. Not for the first time did he wish silent brother communication came with a translation manual for those not in the know.

"Sir, I apologize for breaking the rules. I should have stayed where I was. My brain kinda short circuited when I saw the flames at Dean's back. My only thought was for his safety. What would I do without him, sir?" 'What indeed?' The father thought. "I wish I could say I was sorry for the way I treated you that morning sir. But that would be lying and I don't want to add to my punishment." John smiled at his son's bravado. So did Dean. That part was obviously not rehearsed. "Fair enough Samuel. I appreciate your honesty. Apology Accepted."

John rubbed his face. He was not looking forward to what came next anymore than either of his boys. Sam looked him in the eye, the message was clear. 'I know what's in store and its okay Dad.' Punishment, it loomed above everyone's head. The great pendulum waiting to swing or John's arm as it were. Part of him didn't want too. Part of him knew he need too. Being a Dad wasn't easy.

"May I give Dean his present sir?" John sighed at the persistence of the word sir. "Sam, you don't have to call me sir, you can call me Dad. Yes, please give him his gift." The recovering teenager looked from his cool brother extraordinaire to his once trying to get there again 'World's Greatest Dad' to Sam back to John. The father nodded his permission to the moppet.

"Dean, Mr. Matthews said you were going to be cold for a long time. That you would need something to keep you warm. And that your back would take a while to heal and you would need to keep it padded." John swallowed another lump in his throat when Dean's brave façade cracked at that.

Sam didn't miss it either. "So anyhow, I begged Dad take me into Plattsmouth to get you…" The eleven year old handed Dean a box, wrapped of course. It might not have been the most important part this time. But tradition was tradition.

"Sammy you didn't need to get me anything. Dad was correct in saying he went about disciplining me the wrong way. But I broke the rules, I deserved my punishment. And I was the one that one head first into the coldest water known to Nebraska." Brown green eyes stared at his brother then at the box. Dean moved Sam's face so they were eye to eye.

John sighed audibly. Then said in a tone that his boys recognized as no nonsense, "Dean Christopher Winchester. You did not deserve the beating I gave you. Don't ever think you did. No one deserves to have their back flayed." Neither son missed their Dad's chocking on the word beating. Again two sets of eyes were wide staring at him. Something he couldn't name resonated from them. Something he didn't want to name. He still had Sam's punishment to met out.

"Please open the box Dean." The kid smiled a true smile the first one directed him in weeks. John sighed at the gesture. Quick fingers made waste of the paper and popped off the lid. When the box was open Dean started at his gift. A nice brown leather jacket. "Sammy, how did you?" Dean could not believe it. His brother knew how much he had wanted one. Every time they past a store window that had one, he would stop and look. It was one of the few things he would let himself dream about.

In a small voice the eleven year old replied to his sibling's question. "I used my allowance." Leaving one hand on the coat and putting one hand on his brother Dean said. "Dude, you must have used your whole savings. Even the emergency fund." 'Emergency fund?' John thought as he continued to listen to his boys talk. "Sammy I am not worth it." His father and brother cringed at the statement. "To me you are Dean. If I couldn't use it on you, than what or who then…"

John watched as his older son's eyes filled with tears, he pulled Sam into a hug. "You are my cool brother extraordinaire and I know I don't say it very often anymore. But I love you Sammy, you are the best person I know. Thank you, I will cherish it always."

The brown haired eleven year old hugged his brother as tight as he dared. "You are the bestest brother in the world and I love you Dean. You have no idea how much it hurt when I thought you… Besides you need stay warm and you will look totally cool. Chicks will dig you." All three Winchesters laughed at that. "Just don't leave me Dean." Sam said in such a small voice John barely heard him. 'Don't leave us Dean.' John echoed in his mind.

October 1, 2005Lone Star, Kansas

His Angel looked at him. "I would wager chicks do dig you in that coat." The twenty six year old smirked, his trademark smirk. "Damn straight woman." She looked at him with an emotion Dean hadn't scene in ages. He reached over and kissed her softly on her lips, not chastely thanks to earlier she knew the difference. The ladies man waited till she acknowledged the difference. "Thank you Angel. This coat means the world to me. Bloody and ruined it would have sat in my trunk."

"You do have more gifts you need to open." Dean held her face for a second longer. Then he draped the jacket around her shoulders. He moved back to his chair and went to open the other boxes. As he was ripping opening the paper for the next gift, his Angel warned him. "Now Kansas, please keep in mind we have lived together for months. You do the dishes, I do the laundry." He stopped just before he opened the lid. Raising his eyes he looked at her.

"I know you boys don't have a lot and what you do have comes by nefarious means and well I just thought you needed more than five pieces of clothes." Dean nodded in understanding. The gift giver had purchased him two new long undershirts, thermal at that. The other big boxes housed two new flannel over shirts one of them navy blue the other a deep red. Red, hum that was a new color for him. She also found him a couple of short sleeve tee shirts that were navy and gray. He laughed. "You are rather one tracked in your choice of colors." She laughed as she went on, "with the red I thought maybe we would expand your color repertoire.

When opened the first small box he could see her face change, living with someone in such small quarters for a season, you learned his or her expressions and mannerisms. It must be something special he thought. As he cracked the lid he could see it was another shirt, navy blue, he took and out of the box and turned it over, it white lettering was written, Kansas. Just like the one in the baby picture he had shared with her months ago. Only this shirt was sized to fit the current him.

"Angel, I'm woven in a fantasy, I can't believe the things I see. The path I have chosen now has led me to a wall. And with each passing day I feel a little more like something dear was lost. It rises now before me, a dark and silent barrier between all I am and all I would ever want to be…" The hunter touched his Angels hand across the table.

"It's a travesty, tower, marking off the boundaries my spirit would erase. To pass beyond is what I seek, I fear I may be to weak and those are few who've seen it through to the other side. The promised land is waiting like a maiden that is soon to be a bride. The moment is a masterpiece, the weight of indecision's in the air, it's standing there, the symbol and the sum of all that's me…" He squeezed the hand.

"It's just a travesty, towering, blocking out the light and blinding me. I want to see gold and diamonds cast a spell, it's not for me I know it well. The treasures that I seek are waiting on the other side. There's more that I can measure in the treasure of love that I can find…" Dean turned her hand in his entwining their fingers.

"And thought it's always been with me, I must tear down the Wall and let it be, in harmony shining true and smiling back at all who wait the cross. There is no cross." **The Wall** was his favorite song by **Kansas** despite his history with Wayward Son.

"Kansas," she was breathless. "You have an amazing voice. I mean I have heard you sing before, load of times, but this was. Wow you really know how to use your voice for the moment." He blushed, he was embarrassed.

"Thank you. Sammy used to say that when I would sing. 'You have an amazing voice.' It was one of the few things geek boy never joked about." The auburn haired girl was still over whelmed her normally vast vocabulary had been reduced to, "Wow, I just, its, wow."

The battler of evil smiled, "Thanks for the shirt. It means more to me than you will ever know." She smiled back, "I think I might have an idea." He knew she did. Something had changed. They went from one place to another.

The second small box housed two corded bracelets. Each held a bead on them, one was his grandmothers, Dean had told her it was a symbol he grandmother designed. The same symbol she saw at the bottom of the card from a young Sammy to his bestest brother. The other manly bracelet had a sunflower, the Latin word for peace and her protection sigil. "One can never have too much protection." Dean chuckled at the sincere sentiment. "No one can't."

"Angel. These are beautiful." She looked at her hands the emotion in the room was overwhelming. Neither safe house residents were very good at open displays of affection. "I hoped you wouldn't be mad that I went into your box without your permission and then had a hole put in your grandmothers bead."

Brown eyes stared at the beads, "You just told me you would run your fingers over it when things got bad. So I … There was a store on Mass that had the other one and I thought… If they were carved and what not… You might like another to remind of this place and …." The twenty seven year old kept her eyes locked on the bracelets. Dean moved to sit next to her again. "Mary, I am humbled at your generosity and kindness of spirit, will you help me put them on?"

"Chick flick." He looked at her. "This just got to the sappy part in the chick flick where we would groan and throw popcorn. Dean howled with laughter. "You mean like the time we watched, what was that show called the Guilt More Girls?" His Angel smiled, "you mean the Gilmore Girls?"

The manly man hunter chuckled, "Yeah that one. What was that episode we watched called?" She smiled at the twinkle in his eye. "Kiss and Tell. The one were Rory and Dean kiss." Dean smiled, "I could not believe how much that Jared Pad what a who looks like Sammy, same bad haircut and everything."

His Angel laughed, "Is that why you threw the popcorn?" "Hell no. I threw it cause if that was Sammy, he would have done a hell of a lot better job. And dudes name is Dean, he has a reputation to uphold. If you are going to kiss the girl, kiss her." Dean didn't think he liked the twinkle his Angels eye had taken on.

"What?" He questioned. "Nothing just thinking how funny it is that manly, man Dean likes the Guilt More Girls." In a low and consolatory voice he replied, "A fact you will share with no one." Mary put a finger to her lips and nodded her head. "No one."

When the task of hooking the protection carriers around his wrist was complete the five foot eight Covenant member smiled and said. "Okay, finite." "Your turn sweetheart." She looked embarrassed and didn't know what to do, which was strange. His Angel was almost never at a loss.

"Do I have to open them now?" His face fell, he had worked hard. The twenty six year old wanted his Angel to know how much he appreciated her. "You don't want to?" The girl realized her error. "Of course Dean, I am just not used to people gifting with things." He relaxed the tension that had suddenly taken up residence in his body and nodded his understanding. Dean sighed, "Gifts usually come with a price." Mary sighed and agreed, "Yes they usually do."

Dean was smug with pride at his presents. He was always a good gift giver. The girl with her feet tucked under her laughed at the first one. "Your black jacket? Are you sure?" He chuckled at her expression. "Sweetheart you have worn it more in the last few months than I have and besides, what would you do if it wasn't there to keep you warm?"

She thought about it. If she closed her eyes she could picture… No, she stopped herself. You can't think that way. When his Angel brought her attention back to Dean her brown eyes were twinkling, "Probably freeze to death. Thanks Kansas I will keep it clean and undamaged." She didn't say what she was thinking, he could tell. Hum…

He watched her expression closely at the next box. When she lifted the lid it took a moment for her face to register the contents, "How in all the stars above Kansas did you accomplish this?" "Trade." Was his simple answer and way too confident an answer. "Trade what?" Her Kansas didn't have too many things and what he did have he shouldn't be giving up for her.

"Angel, let a man have his secrets." His hazel eyes were laughing. "Kansas, wow. This is wow. My very own boots." "Sweetheart, I could not have you on a real job with me, in runners." Humph, was the only answer he got to that. 'Her very own boots.'

The following gift was a weapons cache. A nine millimeter with two kinds of ammunition, real and ghost. Three knives, all were hand carved. A holy water bottle, blessed rosary and lock pick set all of which was housed in a cottonwood box. She ran a hand over the engraving. A row of sunflowers. There was no doubt in her mind that Dean did the detail work himself.

"You shouldn't have." Eyes dancing with humor, "but I am glad you did. Now I will be a real hunter." With a calmness that humbled her Dean said, "Oh Angel, you will always be real to me. But will we ever be real to them?" The twenty seven year old swallowed, "Real isn't how you are made. It's a thing that happens to you…it doesn't happen all at once…it takes a long time…but once you become real you can't become unreal again. It lasts forever."

As she was sliding the wrapping of the next one, he was laughing. Good, he needed to laugh. Margery Williams's words were sad and very telling in theirs lives. And there would be enough sadness to come, humor is what they needed right now. Once she opened the present Mary could see why he was chuckling. A blue and white Kansas shirt, just like she had given him. "Great minds." They said in unison.

The last box was small. When she looked at Dean, his face was sober, no joking here. His Angel took her time opening it. When she did her heart stopped beating for a second. Then tears streamed down her cheeks. "Dean. I couldn't. I am very honored that you would want to but no." The brown eyed girl was up on off the couch before he could stay her.

"Mary, please." He called after her. She stopped where she was but didn't turn around. "You are my Angel. As you know this was my grandmother's talisman. I want you to have it, she will protect you. Remember you can never have too much protection."

The girl lowered her bun topped head in what might have been shame, "Dean I… this is a family piece." The patient man took a deep breath and continued "Mary, you are my family. You love me with the same unconditional love my grandmother did. Please." The bowed head sniffled.

Dean took the necklace out of it case. It was a silver Angel. The seraphim held a small heart with a rose carved on it. His Angel moved her head up as he hooked it around her neck. Then she turned to face him she reached up and touched his face with her hand. With eyes still bright with unshed tears she dropped her hand and hugged him. Not just a small hug, she squeezed him hard. He heard her voice from his chest region. "I will cherish it always Dean." He rested his chin on her head, "I will cherish you always Mary."

The barefoot twenty seven year old listened to the soothing sounds of Dean's heart. Before she pulled out of his embrace she softly kissed the rapidly beating area. Then in true deflection fashion she changed the subject. "What do you say we pack this stuff and hit the rack? 4:00am is going to come early."

The no longer wearing a tie Winchester rubbed her back. "Don't sweetheart." 'Sweetheart' turned her head and looked him dead in the eye. Her gaze unwavering and unnerving, her emotions were completely unguarded. "Don't play it down."

She gave a smile that ran from ear to ear. "Dean you are a good man." His Angel reached up on her toes and kissed his cheek. Much like she had many months ago on the veranda out back. Only this time peace wasn't the only thing it brought him. He moved his face till her lips were touching his, without thought or caution he kissed her, hard.

Fifteen minutes later they were ready for bed. She put her Kansas tee shirt on to sleep in. The wooer of woman felt like a dog for checking her out. His Angel normally wore that black tank top thing that kept her girl's strapped in. With this shirt though her girl parts were… The ladies man told himself he couldn't think like that.

He smiled as she climbed in the bed. The hunter turned the lights out. Then he lifted his arm, without anything she snuggled into his side. Wrapping his arm around her, he kissed her head she relaxed into him. "Good Night Mary." Then with boldness he didn't know she had in this area, she rolled over and looked at him. There was no mistaking that look.

4:00 am did in fact come early. The fast female was in and out of the shower in no time flat. Dean took a few minutes. This was going to be his last time showering in a real home for a long time to come. He loved this place. His Angel handed him the deed last night before she hopped into bed.

"Dean Christopher Winchester, land owner in the state of Kansas. Who knew? Seriously Kansas, now you will always have a place you can call home. Does this count as at least one point five out of four?" 'Oh Angel, two point five out of four.' He said to himself. To her with a levity in his voice, "Defiantly, maybe even one point seven five." He could not believe it, the whole thing was surreal. He was showering in his very own shower.

The homeowner took his time shaving too. He knew it was a psychological game to put off the inevitable. The two wayward strays decided last night to just hit the road with hot beverages, skipping breakfast. When he exited the bathroom his traveling clothes were on the bed. 'A road to no where, Always leads to Somewhere tee shirt, blue jeans and his beloved boots. "Thanks Angel." Dean said to an empty room.

After he had dressed he ran a hand over the bedding. This would always be their bed, not just his. Images flashed through his head. Their bed. Dean walked down the hall, taking in the details of his home one last time. His Angel was waiting outside, mugs in hand. She handed him his, he took it stored it in the Impala. She put hers in Miles.

The not so well rested hunter walked into the space separating their vehicles. The auburn haired girl walked up to him. Dean opened his arms, his Angel hugged him. He rested his chin on her head. They both looked at the Sunflower Cabin, their respective thoughts miles away and yet right there.

Then he moved his chin beautiful brown eyes looked at him. He reached down and kissed her. Not an innocent passing of the lips either. A real good old fashion never want to come up for air kiss. Dean could feel her shift. He picked her up and leaned her back on the Impala. Her legs wound around him tight.

When they finally separated he looked at her and let out a whistle. "Girl you game." The got game girl lowered her legs and put a hand on his. She looked behind him at the horizon in an effort to bring her breathing back to normal. When that was the case she hoped off the Chevy slapped his ass and alighted into Miles.

Dean slowly walked to her window lazily resting his arm on the frame. "Follow me sweetheart, it's about a twelve hour drive, we will break in six. Sound good?" "I'd follow you anywhere Kansas." Though Dean heard the joking in her voice he very seriously replied "I believe you mean that."

She rested a hand on his arm. "I'd follow you anywhere Kansas, even through the catacombs of hell." And that she would one day. The dirty blond leaned in grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her like he might never see her again. Which in fact in this light he wouldn't.

Back in his trusty Impala the Winchester hunter gunned the engine. He waved through the window at his traveling companion. She raised her eyebrows and smiled at him. He cocked his head in question. She just kept on grinning. When he turned on the radio he found out why. His Angel had made him a tape for the road. He tipped his imaginary hat at her. Then nodded to the radio. She looked down at hers then back at him. He raised his eyebrows and smirked.

Dean pulled out onto the road and pushed the tape in the player. …I was looking back on my life and all the things I've done to me. I'm still looking for the answers, I'm still searching for the key. The wreckage of my past keeps haunting me. It just won't leave me alone. I still find it all a mystery. Could it be a dream? The road to nowhere leads to me. **Ozzy Osborne**, **Road To Nowhere**. Great minds think alike.

Mary pulled out on the road after her Kansas and pushed her tape in the player. …Through all the happiness and sorrow. I guess I'd it all again. Live for today and not tomorrow. It's still the road that never ends. Ah ah. The road to no where's gonna pass me by. Ah ah. I hope we never have to say good bye. I never want to live without you. **Ozzy Osborne**, **Road To Nowhere**. Great minds think alike.

The ghost tracker had told the ghost talker what he told Sam. If you can't come up with the words chances are pretty good someone else has. Say it through music. …The road to nowhere leads to me.


End file.
